The Purifier
by Epilachna
Summary: A story about how the Purifier may have gone from loyal Necromonger to scheming architect of the Lord Marshal's demise. Contains the events of COR from the Purifier's POV and a Riddick ending.Warning Violent Content
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 1

The Purifier had to give them credit- the Raynans put up a valiant fight. It didn't matter now. As he approached the dais and readied himself to give the conversion speech, he could see the faces of the captives, some angry and others frightened. He turned to face the crowd.

"Humans, in all their various races, spread across the universe, are a disease, a spontaneous outbreak, an unguided mistake. Our purpose, is to correc­t that mistake, to bring the light of truth to every race of man so that they, too, may discover true life- because there is another verse. A verse of light and beauty where life is welcomed and cherished - an ever new place called Underverse. But this verse can only be reached by those who have embraced the Necromonger faith, for those of you who will right now, drop to your knees and ask to be purified – you will have life everlasting."

A cacophony of jeers and murmurs swept through the crowd. He could see the people shaking their heads. Slowly, a man stepped forward. He had the stature of a leader, perhaps he had been, yesterday. Today, he was merely another captive. He stood proudly and held his head high when he spoke. "We will not convert. This is a free world. We bow to no one." The Purifier glanced to his left to see the Lord Marshal. He was walking towards the man, hand extended. The Purifier cringed at what he knew would come next.

"Then I'll take your soul." In one smooth movement, the Lord Marshal had passed his hand through the defiant man and ripped the soul from his body. An audible gasp erupted from the crowd. All could see the man's astral self writhing in the grip of the Lord Marshal. "Join him," the Lord Marshal tossed the man's soul to the ground, "or join me."

As if on cue, the masses kneeled before the great Lord, bowing their heads in subjection. The Purifier could feel the fear and awe emanating from the mass of prisoners. Some of them were truly converted in that moment, the others, terrified into submission. It didn't really matter what had changed their minds, all that mattered was that the purifiers now had a legion of new converts to process so the ranks would not dwindle. Just as the Purifier turned to bless those who chose the Necromonger way, he saw a young woman approach the Proud Man's corpse. She was small, with dark hair and eyes that contrasted with her fair skin. She kneeled beside the body of the fallen man, brushing the hair from his eyes, whispering into his ear.

Suddenly, the girl sprang into action, drawing a dagger and raising it against the Lord Marshal. Perhaps the Purifier would have cried out, warned his master, if it were not for the utter shock that paralyzed him. He saw the dagger enter the Lord's shoulder as the man twisted away from his attacker. The Purifier was certain he was about to witness the death of yet another helpless breeder, but he was mistaken. The Lord Marshal grasped the girl's throat with one quick movement, but instead of ripping out her soul or simply breaking her slender neck he held on, choking her into unconsciousness. The Lord Marshall dropped the girl's body to the ground, pulled the small dagger from his shoulder and smiled. "Bring her." He waved to Irgun to carry the girl away, as the Lord Marshal exited the audience chamber. A cold knot formed in the Purifier's stomach. Never in 20 years had he seen a man raise a finger against the Lord Marshal. He could not begin to imagine what this child would suffer for her crimes, nor did he wish to. But somehow, as he left the audience chamber and retuned to the Necropolis he could not take his mind off the young Raynan, nor stop wondering what the Lord Marshal had in store for her.


	2. Chapter 2

The Purifier

_Disclaimer_ : I own nothing that you've already seen in the movies.

Chapter 2

She could not believe this was happening. Three days ago life had been simple, happy. Then word spread of the comet heading toward the planet along with rumors of the death bringers and their unholy crusade across the stars. Two days later they arrived and within 24 hours the entire planet fell. Her father had sent her to the shelters beneath the capital to wait out the battle. When the doors to the shelter were reopened, it was not by the Raynan guards but by men dressed in the most terrifying armor she had ever seen. The Necromongers herded the shelter occupants to the great hall of the capital building.

The world leaders were gathered around the dais surrounded by guards. She could see her father, but in the crush was unable to make it to his side. Just then, a tall man dressed in an elaborate suit of armor entered the great hall followed by at least a dozen nobly dressed men and women.

One of the men stepped forward. He walked with a regal gait and wore a helmet that looked like a corpse. He spoke with authority and fervor but his words were hollow. She did not believe anything the man had said and from the sounds of the crowd, neither did they. How could these Necromongers think the Raynans would join their sick death worshipping cult? As if he had read the thoughts moving through her mind, her father stepped forward. She wanted to call out to him, stop him before he could speak. She knew his pride would not allow him to stay silent. Her father walked toward the speaker on the dais and from the edge of the room she could hear his voice ring clear.

"We will not convert. This is a free world. We bow to no one."

She held her breath. The speaker on the dais looked at her father and then glanced to his left at the man in the elegant armor who had begun to move forward slowly towards her father with a deadly look in his eyes. The man in the armor stood before her father, speaking to him and to the crowd, "Then I'll take your soul."

Before her eyes the man passed a phantom hand through her father's body. A ghost image of her father writhed in the armored man's hand. As her father's body fell to the ground, a cry ripped from her throat and she pushed against the crowd, forcing herself forward toward the dais. The armored man spoke to the crowd once more and the masses began to kneel, making it easier for her to move through the crowd. She collapsed at her father's side, whimpering over his lifeless body. She felt the side of his neck, but there was no pulse. She knew he was dead when she saw what the armored man had done, but a part of her had hoped, and now that hope was crushed. Her hand moved on its own, drawing the dagger she had hidden in her boot. All of the anger, the hate and pain that had been building within her in the past few hellish hours boiled over. She directed it all at the man standing above her, the one who had taken away her life, her home, her family. Blindly, she lunged at him, swinging her arm in a downward stroke toward his exposed throat. The man sidestepped the attack with ease and the dagger imbedded into his armored shoulder. He grabbed her by the throat and tightened his grip looking directly into her eyes as he blocked off her flow of oxygen. She clawed at his wrist but there was no dislodging his hand. She knew he would kill her, too, as he had her father. The look of amusement in his eyes only fueled her rage even as the edges of her vision became blurred. _"I'll be with you soon, father,"_ was her only thought before she closed her eyes and sank into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 3

The Lord Marshal relished in yet another swift victory. The battle went even better than expected, with minimal losses for the Necromonger ranks. But, truth be told, it was this moment he savored, the moment where the new converts bowed before him in submission.

He watched the Purifier approach the dais to give his conversion speech. The Lord Marshal made a wise choice the day he promoted him. The Purifier was the perfect mouthpiece for his armada, his words echoing in the halls, filled with emotion and truth. He wondered, briefly, if the Purifier had been a man of importance on some long destroyed planet. He certainly had the presence of a man born to herd sheep. The moment had come where one of the assembled masses would undoubtedly begin to protest. It was the second most enjoyable moment in these proceedings.

A man of medium stature but noble bearing stepped forward from the crowd addressing the Purifier. "We will not convert. This is a free world. We bow to no one."

The Lord Marshal watched as the Purifier froze in place and then glanced his way. The Lord Marshal met the Purifier's eyes – it was time for him to take over. He approached the Proud Man, a cold sneer gracing his lips. It was so easy, taking life, and the Lord Marshal reveled in it. He met the man's eyes and saw his anger and pride turn to shock and fear as he felt the Lord Marshal's hand pass through his abdomen.

"Then I'll take your soul." With that, the Marshal used his astral form to rip the man's soul from his body. It danced in the air in shock and pain unable to escape the Marshal's grasp. He could hear the crowd gasp and a woman cry out. A look of cold glee spread across the Marshal's face as he turned to the crowd. The time had come for his new subjects to bow.

"Join him," he proclaimed as he tossed the man's soul to the ground, "or join me."

It was a beautiful sight, watching the crowd kneel before him. From the corner of his eye he saw a woman moving toward the body of the fallen hero. He recognized her voice, the one that had cried out when he felled the Proud Man. She kneeled beside his body touching his face and whispering to him through a veil of tears. There was some part of the Lord Marshal that was jealous of the attention she was giving the man's corpse, but he pushed it aside.

As he began to turn away the girl sprang into motion, drawing a dagger from her boot and aiming for his throat. The Marshal moved just in time for the dagger to imbed in the armor of his shoulder. He could have easily evaded the clumsy attack but had been struck still by something akin to awe. He grasped the girl's throat. Unlike the man she had wept for, there was no shock in her eyes, no fear, only a burning hate. The Lord Marshal could not recall the last time any mortal had looked upon him with anything other than awe or a fearful respect. And in that moment he knew he could not kill her. He held on to her slender throat, blocking the flow of oxygen and watched as her eyes closed and her hands, that had come up to claw at his wrist, fell away.

The Lord Marshall dropped the girl's body to the ground and pulled the small dagger from his shoulder. Looking at it he saw the smallest amount of blood on the tip and smiled. It had been a long time since he'd seen his own blood. This woman was worth more than all of the cowering converts kneeling before him. Glancing to his left he saw Irgun looking angrier than usual. The man may not be brilliant but he was loyal and strong and always did as he was told. "Bring her." He waved to Irgun to carry the girl away. He knew Irgun would take good care of his new prize. As the Lord Marshal swept out of the room he caught a glimpse of the Purifier, staring at the girl Irgun carried in his arms with sadness and concern_. Interesting. _


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 4

Anya awoke with a massive headache, each breath, painful. Memories rushed back to her, the man in the armor, her father lying on the ground, her hand reaching for the dagger. She reached up to her throat and could feel the tenderness where a short time ago a hand had nearly crushed the life out of her, nearly. _This was not death_. There would not be pain.

_Oh God_.

A coil of fear began to wind deep in her stomach. She had been certain her life was over. She hadn't counted on this. Anya knew she had to open her eyes but feared what she might find. She opened them and found herself in a dimly lit room lying on a sofa. The room was large; the walls disappeared into the shadows. Slowly, she righted herself and waited out the wave of nausea that hit her with the change of position. She felt vulnerable in the large, dark room where anyone could be watching from the shadows.

"Lights," nothing happened. "Lights up," still nothing.

She stood and began to circle the room slowly. There were large windows that allowed her to see the stars. She approached a doorway and immediately it slid open revealing an even larger sitting room connected to a dining area. The dining table was elegant and could easily seat a dozen or more guests. It was hewn from the same black material that dominated the rest of the room's architecture. She made her way past the table and spotted another door. This one, however, did not open. She pressed some buttons on a touch pad beside it in vain. Moving on, she approached another door on the opposite side of the room. The doors slid apart revealing a large, elegant bedchamber. This room she did not enter.

The panic that had been bubbling in the pit of her stomach began to rise. Who did these rooms belong to? Why was she here? The logical part of her mind answered; these rooms belong to him. They were as elegantly appointed as his suit of armor. As this new revelation began to sink in, she heard a commotion on the other side of the locked door. Sliding along the back wall, keeping to the shadows, she watched as the doors slid apart. The man, who hours earlier had murdered her father, entered the room. He walked to a decorative counter top and began removing his armored vestments. When he finished, he approached the far wall. Pressing a button, the wall opened revealing a bar and a computer screen. He touched a few buttons, then picked up a glass and filled it with an amber liquid. He swirled the drink in his glass and took a sip.

"Would you like a glass, my dear?" he asked, turning to where Anya was standing in the shadows.

She knew he should not be able to see her in the darkness. Then again, what he did to her father, he should not have been able to do that either. Gathering all the courage she had left she stepped out of the shadows and met the man's eyes. He was smiling at her. It was not the cruel sneer he had displayed earlier but an expression that appeared genuine, though she could not be certain.

"Well?"

"No," was all she could bring herself to say.

He gave a slight shrug of a shoulder. "Not a drinker?" That smile again. "I've ordered us some dinner. It has been a long day and I think we're both hungry. Lights up."

Anya had to shield her eyes, unaccustomed to the brightness. The man seemed unaffected.

"Now we can see each other."

She dropped the hand from her eyes and took a good look at the man before her. He appeared to be in his forties, his eyes, however, spoke of greater age. He stood a full foot taller than her and outweighed her by perhaps 100 pounds. His eyes never left her. It felt to Anya as though he tore a piece of her brave façade away with every moment his eyes held hers. She stood frozen to the spot, unsure of her next move, or his.

Breaking the staring contest, he moved across the room and seated himself on a large comfortable looking couch, swirling his glass. "Do you know who I am?" he asked offhandedly, looking down at his glass as he took a drink and then returning his gaze to her. Anya didn't know exactly who the man before her was but he was obviously someone of importance. The others in the hall had followed him, their leader, perhaps. She did not know.

"My name is Zhylaw. I am the Lord Marshal of the Necromongers." Anya wasn't certain what a _Lord Marshal_ was but she knew it meant the man she had attacked was no simple soldier. Perhaps he could sense her uncertainty.

"It means," he spoke slowly, deliberately, "that I am the ruler of all the Necromongers and commander of the great armada that swept aside your planet's defenses in a single night."

Perhaps he wished her to be awed at this proclamation but Anya had been surrounded by noble lords her entire life. She was not so easily cowed. There was a question burning in Anya's mind that she didn't think she had the courage to voice, nor the strength to hear the answer, but she needed to know. "Why have you brought me here?"

Anya held her breath as Zhylaw returned his attention to his glass, his head tilted in thought, his eyes becoming unfocused. She thought that he might answer her question but instead he countered with another

"What's your name?" he paused to meet her eyes again, "It's only fair. I've given you mine." His smile faded and his expression became unreadable. "Tell me." It was a command and Anya was certain this man was not accustomed to being defied.

Just then the door chimed, giving Anya a few precious moments as Zhylaw answered the door and allowed the servants to set the table. The food smelled divine and her stomach grumbled; reminding her she hadn't eaten since being rushed to the shelter by her father. The servants finished their work and exited with a gesture of respect to the Lord Marshal.

Zhylaw took his seat at the head of the table and waved at the chair to his right, "Sit." Another command. Anya decided there was little to gain by refusal so she moved toward the table and took her seat. The Lord Marshal began piling food on his plate. Anya did not want to ask permission to serve herself. She sensed he'd enjoy her deference. Anya reached for a roll but her hand was intercepted by Zhylaw who held her wrist in a firm grip. A small cry of surprise escaped her lips. Zhylaw smiled, "Your name first. I will not have a guest at my table without knowing their name. So," he released her hand and leaned back in his chair looking at her appraisingly, "your name, or no food."

There it was, the first gauntlet thrown; her name for food. To some, it would not be a choice, but Anya had the feeling this was only the beginning. If she submitted, what would he demand of her for her next meal?

She wasn't prepared to do battle now, she was too tired and her emotions were barely held in check. She could give him a false name but he would know. Her father had always laughed at her feeble attempts at lying. She didn't think this man would be any easier to fool. Her decision made, she answered, "My name is Anya."

She reached out once again for the bread but this time was allowed to take a piece. Zhylaw allowed her to fill her plate and they ate in silence. It seemed to Anya that the last two days stretched out for years. She thought about her planet, her father's death, and her present situation. She had not yet grieved for all she had lost and now was not the time. It dawned on Anya at that moment that he never answered her question. She looked up from her plate and broke the silence.

"Why have you brought me here?"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 5

The Purifier had his hands full. Two million new converts took some time to process. Those not among the Necromonger ranks held a powerful misconception about the purification procedure – they believed it destroyed a person's mind. Not true. It was much more complicated than that. Each case needed to be evaluated. Those individuals who were identified as possessing greater intelligence, greater strength, were enhanced by the procedure. They were allowed to retain their own will - a caste of leaders, you might say. Those with needed trade skills would be allowed to keep that knowledge and became the working class. The converts who could contribute nothing but their hands to the cause were reprogrammed into foot soldiers.

One could say the job of a purifier was a combination of holy man and career counselor.

All Necromongers, regardless of their status, were purified of pain. The mechanical nanos injected into their necks sought out and destroyed all pain processing centers in their bodies. Ironically, the procedure was extremely painful, but once complete, the convert became truly perfect. The Necromongers had an axiom: no pain, no fear; no fear, no weakness.

Enan had been promoted to High Purifier two years earlier. A combination of eloquence, brilliance, and cunning propelled him thorough the purifier ranks until now he was the head of the entire caste. It was a feat he was proud of in many respects. Now only the Lord Marshal held any true authority over him.

The high ranking Necromonger warriors held the Purifier at arms length. Prior to his most recent promotion, the Commanders tried from time to time to challenge his authority. They did not like how he held the Lord Marshal's ear. They backed off, however, after his battle with Teaor. A powerful and well-respected Commander, Teaor challenged the Purifier to mortal combat after the two had had something of a disagreement. Unlike Enan, Teaor had a fierce temper. In contrast, 'fierce' was the last word any Necromonger would have used to describe the Purifier. Enan knew better. He was not born a Necromonger but his own people had been great warriors. Enan may have been only a boy when he was converted, but he knew how to fight and he hadn't stopped training these last twenty years.

It took Enan five moves to kill the great warrior.

After that, the rest of the Lords decided the Purifier was not worth troubling with. One week later, Zhylaw promoted him to High Purifier. Enan was still curious as to what inspired the Lord Marshal to promote him. He suspected part of the reason was to keep a closer eye on him. The Lord Marshal left nothing to chance and Enan's surprising performance that day was enough for the entire Necropolis to take note.

"Excuse me, sir. I need you to authorize these files." A young purifier interrupted Enan's thoughts. The Purifier took the tablet from the young man, briefly looking over the files, and entered his authorization code.

Handing the tablet back to the younger man he smiled, "Good work. At this rate I expect we'll have the entire population processed in a few days." The Purifier felt a surge of pride. His young trainees were performing exceptionally. He turned back to his data screens to monitor the progress of the newest batch of converts. The procedure took a full twelve hours. As soon as one group finished the next group would be put into the racks; smooth and efficient - a testament to Enan's leadership. Enan stood and stretched his legs. He needed a break. "Zerdor, I will return in a few hours. Call me if there are any problems."

"Yes, sir."

The Purifier exited the conversion rooms and headed toward his quarters in the private levels of the Necropolis. Only the highest ranking Necromongers inhabited these halls. He entered his chambers and let out a tired sigh. He'd been awake far too long and needed a rest. He decided to shower first. Entering his bedchamber, it took a few minutes for Enan to remove his many layers of regalia, placing each sacred piece on a decorative countertop. He turned and entered a rather large bathroom. Bathing with water was one luxury from his previous life he truly missed. The sonic showers were efficient but not nearly as enjoyable. No Necromonger would think of wasting precious water on such a luxury, aside from Enan, that is. Finishing quickly, he returned from the bathroom, laid down on his bed and was asleep in moments.

_Ding!_

The Purifier's sleep was interrupted by the sound of the door chime. Enan stood, wrapped himself in an elegant robe and moved to answer the door. He was slightly annoyed that someone was interrupting his nap. He told Zerdor to call him if there were problems, not send someone to pull him out of bed. The Purifier opened the door, his eyes holding a bit of anger, "What is it?"

He looked up at the man who had interrupted his sleep, his anger vanishing quickly, "Lord Marshal, I was not expecting you." He gestured gracefully for his Lord to enter. The Purifier was distinctly aware of the fact that the Lord Marshal had never before called upon him in his chambers. _There_ _is a first time for everything_. Enan had not seen the Lord Marshal since he excused himself the prior evening after a joint briefing with his Commanders and Purifiers. He had given the Purifier a sly smile and said he had _other business_ to attend to.

_Other business_.

Enan had not seen the girl who attacked the Lord Marshal since Irgon carried her from the Raynan capital building. He had been so busy with his duties that his concern for the girl had faded to the back of his mind. Was she the reason for this unexpected visit? He wanted to question the Lord Marshal but was far too cautious to voice his thoughts. He arranged his face into a careful mask and led the Lord Marshal to his sitting room. "May I get you a drink or something to eat, Lord Marshal? I was preparing to order myself lunch."

"Just a drink, Enan, but please, don't let me keep you from your meal." Enan gave a slight nod to the Lord Marshal, walked to his desk and began placing an order for himself. While scrolling through his favorite selections the Lord Marshal took a seat in Enan's favorite chair.

"What can I do for you, sir?" the Purifier queried while completing his order. He poured them both a drink and, handing the glass to Zhylaw, moved to sit across from his Lord. Zhylaw studied the glass for a moment and then took a drink. Enan wondered if the Lord Marshal studied the glass looking for poison or if he was deciding how to answer the question.

"How are the new converts doing? There were many this time." Enan was in no mood for games but he realized he had no choice so he played the proud servant.

"Very well, my Lord," he replied with what he hoped appeared to be genuine enthusiasm. "We are processing 100,000 converts every 12 hours. I am quite impressed with the performance of my newest purifiers. It is not common for us to have so many recruits and those new purifiers who were added to the ranks on Kelar Prime have proven to be well conditioned. Even with the training programs implanted during the purification process, it does take some time for them to become comfortable in their tasks." He smiled proudly at the Lord Marshal, betraying no sign of impatience or curiosity.

The Lord Marshal nodded approvingly. "I am pleased to hear that everything is going smoothly. We will not reach Rion V for at least a month so there is plenty of time for the purifiers to rest before they are called upon again."

The silence returned and the two men passed a few quiet minutes pondering their drinks. The Lord Marshal stood and examined the Purifier's art collection, taken from conquered worlds. The man had a fine eye, an observant eye as well and a guarded tongue; a rather unpleasant combination of traits in a subordinate. The Lord Marshal did not fear Enan nor did he completely trust him. The Purifier was useful, more useful than any member of his council. In some ways, Zhylaw depended on the Purifier. It was the one thing he strongly disliked about the man. Before his performance with Teaor the Lord Marshal had mistakenly considered Enan to be all brains and no brawn. The Lord Marshal witnessed their battle; he had not truly _seen_ Enan until that day. Zhylaw despised making errors in judgment. He misjudged the Purifier and made the same mistake again with her. Zhylaw's major weakness was his failure to see strength in others, especially those who bore no outward signs of physical power.

Zhylaw knew the Purifier was curious about the girl he had taken from Raynar I, if he correctly interpreted the emotion in Enan's eyes yesterday. He also knew Enan would not speak of it unless the Lord Marshal spoke first. Well, he could only string the man along for so long. He did need the Purifier's assistance after all and perhaps he could use this slip in the Purifier's indifferent façade to his advantage.

The Lord Marshal met the Purifier's eyes with a devious grin and spoke, "You are a difficult man to break, Enan." The Purifier immediately came to attention, keeping his face blank.

"Sir? I'm not sure I know what you mean." He spoke in a steady voice knowing the Lord Marshal wouldn't buy his ingenuousness, but preferred to stay in character.

"You want to know what happened to my little friend, but you won't ask will you?" The Purifier remained silent but it didn't matter as the Lord Marshal continued, not expecting a response. "Tell me, Purifier, do you still remember how to program nanos? I know it has been some time since you've performed such menial tasks but I wouldn't trust any other with the welfare of my pet."

Enan was frozen in place by the Lord Marshal's words. He realized that Zhylaw was waiting for a response, trouble was, Enan wasn't quite sure what to say. "If you wish her to be purified, sir, I can take her down to the conversion rooms right now. I can put her at the top of the list."

The Lord Marshal smirked at the Purifier's response. "You misunderstand me, Enan; I do not wish her to be purified. I only wish her wounds to be healed, I'm afraid I- _damaged_ -her."

The Purifier digested the Lord Marshal's words. If he didn't want to convert her why did he bring her aboard? Enan expected the Lord Marshal to exact some form of retribution. In fact, he was shocked Zhylaw had not killed the girl outright. He assumed the Lord Marshal would take her to be purified as an example for her people. If that was not the case, then Enan was at a loss for what the Lord Marshal wanted with the girl. The woman was not Zhylaw's _type_. He had a beautiful wife and several lovers, each of whom were tall, blond, elegant and above all, obedient.

He silenced his thoughts, "I have not forgotten, Lord," was all he could manage to say.

Zhylaw knew he was throwing the Purifier off balance and he enjoyed every minute of it. Enan's face betrayed nothing but Zhylaw could tell by his answers the man didn't know what to make of the situation. "Good then. I have granted you access to my chambers." The Lord Marshal stood and approached the Purifier who had stood up to refill his glass. Zhylaw met the Purifier's emotionless eyes. _He would break this man yet_. "You understand, of course, that I expect this matter to be kept," he paused to emphasize his final word, "_private_."

"Yes, Lord Marshal. I will speak of this to no one." Enan was not a gossip and even if he was he didn't think he could speak of this to anyone without risking his well constructed mask of indifference. He was having a hard enough time concealing his concern from the Lord Marshal.

"I must be leaving; the Commanders are awaiting my arrival." The Lord Marshal headed for the door. "Oh," clapping his hands together he turned back to the Purifier as though he had forgotten something of great importance, "I almost forgot. I'm afraid I may have made a bit of a mess. I know it is beneath your station, Enan, but I would like it if you would make sure my rooms are cleaned before I return this evening. I don't want the servants gossiping." He turned and opened the door, nearly knocking into two servants bringing the Purifier's meal. The two men bowed to the Lord Marshal and Zhylaw called back to Enan. "It seems your food has arrived, Purifier." With that, the Lord Marshal disappeared through the doorway and the two servants went to work setting the Purifier's table. The servants finished quickly, bowed, and exited the Purifier's chambers. The food smelled divine but Enan found he had lost his appetite.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

**Warning:** Violence ensues. I don't think it's all that graphic but I suppose it's a matter of taste. Later chapters may get worse. I'm not sure I entirely like how this chapter turned out so let me know what you think.

Chapter 6

"Why have you brought me here?"

Anya waited for a response from the Lord Marshal. He picked up his napkin, pressed it to his lips, and returned his gaze to her; that appraising look again. Just when she thought he would ignore her question completely, he spoke, "A difficult question to answer."

He looked at his empty plate and placed the napkin on the table. "This is no place for a proper conversation." He stood and moved to the bar, refilled his glass and headed for his favorite chair.

Anya followed him to the elegant reception area. She chose a seat far enough away from the man to feel comfortable but close enough to appear unafraid.

"Are you certain you don't want something to drink?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded in a steady voice. Anya was beginning to get impatient with the Lord Marshal's delaying tactics. He was undoubtedly doing it intentionally to fray her nerves. She tried hard to remain calm but exhaustion was beginning to creep up on her and there was only so much longer she could hold out. The Lord Marshal was staring at her again and she boldly met his eyes. She would not be the first to look away.

Zhylaw was enjoying his evening. Anya sat across from him, looking directly into his eyes. It brought a smile to his lips. She was a brave little thing. _Why have you brought me here?_ He knew she dreaded the answer to that question but had asked it anyway. Brave. _She has no idea how unique she is_.

Frankly, Zhylaw was not certain _he_ knew why he brought the girl aboard; to punish her, yes, but that was not the underlying reason. Her defiance; it had been so long since anyone raised a hand against him. It was an important lesson. That was why he wanted to keep her here with him instead of locked in some prison cell. Zhylaw's private rooms were his sanctuary - no one but his servants were permitted entry and only with his express consent. Zhylaw's wife and lovers have never seen these rooms and only a handful of his advisors had ever been invited inside. These rooms were his sanctuary and he wanted _her_ here. Perhaps he'd think more about the significance of his odd behavior later. At the moment he turned his attention back to Anya.

"You know, no man has raised a hand against me since I became Lord Marshal and passed the gates to the Underverse." The Lord Marshal spoke his thoughts aloud. He found he wanted her to know extraordinary her actions were.

"You taught me an important lesson today," he continued, watching her reactions closely, "I forgot that not all mortals will fear me or hold me in awe. There are some, perhaps even in my own ranks, with hate or greed enough to rise against me. I must be ever vigilant."

Zhylaw stood, walked to the windows and looked out over the conquered planet. Memories flooded back to him of the countless worlds he conquered, of millions of converts kneeling before him. Shaking his head he returned to the present. He continued, still gazing out upon Raynar I, "It is an important lesson to keep in mind and I am grateful to you for reminding me. That is why I brought you here; to remind me of my moment of weakness," he moved back to the sitting area and approached Anya. He stood, towering above her. The panic she felt upon awakening in the large dark room exploded in her mind once again. He reached out his hand and caressed the side of her face. Anya drew away from his hand. Zhylaw laughed softly at her attempt to escape his touch. "You will remind me of my weakness and serve as a lesson to others."

At his last words, Anya tipped her face up to meet his. He had a wicked glint in his eyes and reached out for her again but this time she could not evade him. He wound his left hand in her hair and pulled her face up toward his. Anya grabbed hold of his arm as he lifted her off her seat. He brushed her cheek gently with his right hand. Anya gritted her teeth. Zhylaw noted the angry expression on her face. She did not close her eyes or look away. _God, she ignited such passion in him._ "Now little one, it is time for your punishment."

Without another word Zhylaw dragged the young woman across the room, his hand still wound in her hair. Anya struggled as much as she could in his grip but only succeeded in leaving tiny cuts on his forearm as her nails dug into his flesh. Zhylaw headed back to the private sitting room where Anya awoke an hour earlier. The doors opened automatically as they reached the vestibule.

Upon entering, Zhylaw threw Anya to the ground. She hit, landing on her right wrist, and cried out as pain shot through her hand and forearm. Tucking her arm close to her body she crawled away from the Lord Marshal. Zhylaw unclasped the ornamented belt he wore. His wife complained about it once after one of the sharp points ripped a hole in her gown. He smiled at the angry looking weapon and swung the spiked strap in a high arc landing on Anya's unprotected back. A cry ripped from her throat as the metal spikes bit her soft flesh. The blows landed again and again, tearing chunks of flesh from her body.

Anya had never felt pain like this in her entire life. On her knees, her head sheltered by her hands, she tried to make herself as small as possible. Her back was on fire and her throat became raw from her screams. Eventually, she no longer had the strength to cry out and she blessedly began to loose consciousness.

When Zhylaw could no longer tell the difference between her torn flesh and the remnants of cloth that clung in a bloody mass around her body, he halted his attack. Anya's screams had long since subsided and she now whimpered senselessly, her knees hugged to her chest.

Zhylaw studied the girl who had so bravely stood against him hours earlier. Would this break her? He hoped not. He had a lot more planned for his new pet. He knelt down beside her and placed a gentle hand on the top of her head. She jerked violently away from his touch and mewled like a wounded animal.

"Not so brave now, are you little one?" he whispered, running his hands over her now bloody and matted hair. The fire she ignited in him, quenched by the violence he rained down on her. He straightened up and wiped his blood stained hand on his pants. Zhylaw felt strangely sedate after his attack on the young Raynan. "Good night, little one." He exited the small sitting room and locked the door so no one could enter or leave without his permission.

He would need to have someone tend to her injuries. There were only two men on his council he trusted with the job, and both for different reasons. Irgun would do his Lord's bidding without question or hesitation. Zhylaw also knew that as fierce as Irgun was in battle, he would not harm so much as a hair on Anya's head without his Lord's permission. Enan, on the other hand, was skilled in Necromonger healing techniques and, even more importantly, he was too cautious to gossip about the Lord Marshal's private affairs.

The Lord Marshal's thoughts returned to the girl's attack on him and the Purifier's reaction. _What was that look the in Purifier's eyes…sadness? concern? fear?_ It was the first time the Lord Marshal had ever seen the Purifier's mask falter. He could not let this pass. A plan began to form in the Lord Marshal's mind. He may have found a way to break through the Purifier's carefully constructed façade. Zhylaw decided he would pay the Purifier a visit in the morning.

Zhylaw checked the chrono, Selene should still be awake. He took a quick sonic shower, discarded his blood stained clothing and dressed. He checked the lock on Anya's door and left his rooms. He needed to pay his wife a visit.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 7

The Purifier was stalling. He dreaded what he would find when he reached the Lord Marshal's chambers. Zhylaw always appeared to have a great deal of control over his passions and actions when in public. After his earlier conversation with the man, Enan began to wonder just how much control the Lord Marshal managed to maintain the previous night. Enan did not think he wanted to know.

The Purifier made his way down the corridor toward the Lord Marshal's suite. Never before had he set foot in these rooms. In the past, Enan would have jumped at the chance to explore the mysterious man's private quarters. He was not feeling so enthusiastic at the moment. Enan reached the elaborately decorated entryway and pressed his hand against the access pad. The door opened immediately before him and Enan stepped through the threshold into the dimly lit room.

"Lights up." The lighting increased to an acceptable level and Enan made his way into the opulent sitting room. The rooms were arranged much like the Purifier's, only grander. He did not see anything that would indicate where the Raynan was being held. If the rooms were arranged the same way as Enan's, then the doorway to the right led to the bedchamber and the door to the left led to the private sitting room. Enan headed to the sitting room first. Somehow, he did not think the Lord Marshal was the type of man who would make a _mess_ in his own bedchamber.

The Purifier reached the door and found that it, too, was locked. Placing his hand on the reader, the door slid opened. Enan did not know how long he stood at the threshold. His eyes took in the blood splattered on the ground, walls and furniture, and the limp body of the Raynan girl. After what felt like ages Enan managed to still his tumultuous thoughts. He had a lot of work to do. Enan approached the girl to get a better look at her wounds. She was lying on her side with her knees drawn close to her chest. He kneeled down beside the girl, her back facing him. Her breath was labored and her eyes shut tightly. She knew he was beside her but did not attempt to open her eyes. Enan examined her back more closely.

The wounds were horrid. Enan could feel his chest constricting in anger. He extended his arm and touched the girl's broken body. She cried out in pain, but did not have the strength to pull away. Enan withdrew at once, ashamed at his thoughtlessness. If a Necromonger had sustained such injuries they would have felt nothing, but the child on the floor was suffering terribly. Her back was torn to shreds. Pieces of cloth and skin were held together by dried blood. Enan did not know where to begin. Passing a medpad over her body he was relieved she had no internal injuries. He opened his bag and removed the nano injection. He programmed the nanos to rebuild her surface tissue but before he could inject the healing solution, Enan knew he needed to clean her wounds. If he attempted to remove the pieces of blood encrusted cloth now it would cause her great pain. The Necromongers did not feel pain so they carried no medicines to alleviate the condition. Rising, he moved to the adjoining room and filled a large glass bowl with water from the bar's drinking fountain. Taking a soft washcloth he returned to the girl's side. He kneeled beside her, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and lifted her chin so he could see her face. She did not open her eyes. Enan took a close look at the girl. She was not as young as she appeared in the hall. Her pain filled expression broke his heart.

He spoke to her softly. "I'm going to help you." He dipped the cloth in the warm water, "I have to clean your wounds before they can be healed. It will hurt." His eyes begged her forgiveness.

He gently pressed the cloth against her shoulder allowing the water to run down her back. She whimpered softly and Enan attempted to comfort her with a gentle squeeze of her hand. She gripped the proffered hand tightly while he tended her wounds. The pain was evident on her face and in the fierceness of her grip.

He absently rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand and spoke his thoughts aloud, "For as long as I can remember, no one has stood up to him. I don't think he was prepared for it." He paused and stroked her hair softly with his free hand. "You certainly got his attention, didn't you?"

Anya opened her eyes slightly and tried to see the man who was tending her injuries. He had white hair and pale eyes; his voice sounded familiar. She recognized this man. "You," she croaked, finding it difficult to speak. Her throat was still raw from screaming.

Enan looked down at the woman, startled by the sound of her voice. He had not expected her to speak. _You_. It was an accusation and Enan did not know how to respond. It was obvious she recognized him from his speech at the capital building. Her pain-filled expression now included what the Purifier could only interpret as hate. Enan's stomach twisted and he felt as though a great weight planted itself on his chest; he did not like the thought of her hating him. "My name is Enan." It was all he could think of to say.

Anya's mind was fuzzy. She was having trouble concentrating on one thought at a time. This man, what did he call himself? _Enan_. Was he the one from the capital? That man had appeared powerful, high ranking. He could not be the one cleaning her wounds. "The speaker?" was all she was able to choke out.

Enan caught the inflection in her voice. It was a question. He thought he saw recognition in her eyes but perhaps she wasn't sure. He supposed it would seem odd to her to find him tending her injuries. "Yes, I was the speaker in the capital." He met her eyes and saw confusion. She was having difficulty speaking; her throat sounded sore and her lips were dry and cracked. Enan had forgotten about the dehydration that accompanied blood loss. She needed water. He stood then, and quickly exited the room. Returning to the bar, he poured a large glass of water.

Enan was back at the woman's side in moments. "I've brought you water. I'll help you." He reached down to support her head and lift her into a more upright position. He held the glass to her lips and helped her take a few sips. She wanted more but Enan stopped her, "Not too fast. It will make you sick." He gently laid her head back down and continued working on her back. The moistened blood made it easier to remove the bits of ripped cloth. Enan worked silently. The only sounds in the room were the splash of the water and the quiet gasps that escaped the woman when he removed the pieces of cloth.

When Enan was certain he had removed every last shred of clothing he prepared the nano injection. "This injection will heal your injuries but it will take a couple of hours." He injected the nanos directly into her shoulder; they would make their way across her back from there. Enan wanted to move the woman to the couch. He would not leave her lying on the floor. She was small enough for him to lift but he did not want to hurt her. He brushed her hair and she turned her face to him. He smiled kindly, "I want to move you to the couch. You'll be more comfortable." She gave a small nod and Enan grasped her beneath both arms. He lifted her to a standing position and guided her to the couch.

Enan would need to order her new clothing. The shirt she wore was torn to pieces and her pants were stained with blood. She would need a shower as well, after the nanos finished healing her back. He placed the glass of water on the ground within her reach and moved to the control panel to order cleaning service for the room.

Anya lay down on her stomach and closed her eyes, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. She was so tired. She heard the man, Enan, moving about the room and watched him work at the control pad. She still did not know why he was taking care of her. Anya's back began to burn anew as the injection healed her torn flesh. She hurt too much to talk but managed to whisper, "Why you?"

Enan turned back to the woman. Her head was turned toward him but her eyes were closed. As Enan had guessed earlier from her confused expression, she was not sure why the Purifier was tending to her injuries. Enan could only guess at the Lord Marshal's motives. It was easy to think Zhylaw had chosen him because he was the highest ranking council member skilled in healing. Unfortunately, Zhylaw's reasoning was rarely so straightforward. Enan was more confused by the past two day's events than the woman before him and yet he felt the need to give her some kind of answer. He chose an answer he knew was not quite a lie. "The Lord Marshal would not entrust your care to simply any Necromonger. I am one of his council members and trained in healing. He knows I'll take good care of you."

He could see the young woman was struggling with something, though he knew not what. She had opened her eyes but her vision was unfocused, she seemed to be looking through Enan. She closed her eyes again and Enan barely made out her final words before she drifted off to sleep.

"Thank you."

Enan moved to her side. Her breathing was slow and steady. Already the wounds on her shoulder were beginning to heal. Before he could give his actions a second thought, Enan ran the tips of his fingers lightly along the side of her face. Even now, he found her beautiful. Enan forced himself to leave her side. He needed to collect some clothing and sundries for her while she slept.

It was some time later when the Purifier realized he never asked the woman her name.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 8

Selene felt uneasy. She usually never saw her husband in the days proceeding and following a conquest. He was far too busy focusing on his work. So you can imagine her surprise when he appeared at her door the night of their victory over the Raynans. She poured him a drink and they spoke of the Necromonger's great victory. Neither partner spoke of the woman who attacked Zhylaw.

Selene was stunned that Zhylaw did not kill her on the spot. Later, when she had time alone to think, she attempted to interpret his strange actions. Selene came to the only possible conclusion; he would convert her as an example to her people. She would appear before the Raynan masses and tell them of the glories that awaited them in the Underverse if they accepted the Necromonger faith.

After Zhylaw's visit last night she began to think her brilliant assessment might be wrong.

Selene had never been nervous with regards to her husband's dalliances. He cared nothing for his 'lovers' and each one held his attention for only a short time. They were all tall, pale, beautiful, and meek. She could not say exactly what it was that troubled her about the Raynan woman; perhaps it was that she was none of these things.

Zhylaw stayed with her that night. His passion was greater than it had been in many years. He could not be satiated. Each time he took her, Selene felt powerfully that he was making love to someone else.

By the next morning Selene's distress was spiraling out of control. Her safe and predictable world was being turned upside down. Selene's station as Dame Zhylaw made her the mistress over every Necromonger, but she was not so foolish as to believe she was irreplaceable. She possessed great beauty, grace and breeding, but even a work of art can become commonplace when looked upon daily.

The moment her husband departed she went to work. She could not use her access codes to locate the woman. If Zhylaw found out she was interested in the Raynan he would question her. Instead, she spent the morning visiting with the other ladies of the court. The gossip mongerers might have heard something useful from their Lords.

As Selene expected, the only topic the women wished to speak of was the attack on the Lord Marshal. Only Selene and Dame Vakko had been present in the capital building when the attack occurred. The women questioned her relentlessly but she gave them nothing, mimicking their ignorance.

"Have you noticed anything strange about the Lord Marshal's behavior these past few days, Selene?" Dame Vakko asked, with mock innocence. Selene did not trust that woman. She dared not speak of Zhylaw's strange behavior the previous night, especially in the presence of the social climbing Dame.

After a few hours of mindless chatter she was able to glean one important piece of information from the Ladies; their husbands were just as curious as they about the Lord Marshal's prisoner. That meant none of _them_ knew where she was, either.

When Selene was certain she had nothing more to gain by listening to the Ladies' prattle she excused herself. She made her way down to the conversion rooms and viewed the new converts. She did not see the woman anywhere. Going down a few floors, she passed by the prison ward. The Necromongers did not normally take prisoners but it was sometimes necessary to punish one of their own or hold a breeder for a period of time. She questioned one of the guards who informed her that no prisoners were currently being held in the ward.

Selene was at a loss. She did not know where to go from here. The secrecy surrounding the woman's whereabouts was disturbing. No one had seen her since her attack on the Lord Marshal. Irgun would know where the woman was taken; he carried her to the Necropolis. But Selene would not question the Commander. Her husband trusted the large, silent warrior, and she had no desire to find out why. Selene decided to head back to her rooms for dinner when she bumped into the Purifier, literally. The normally graceful man walked into her when rounding a corner. He looked distressed but the expression vanished as he met Dame Zhylaw's eyes.

"Dame Zhylaw, my Lady, forgive my clumsiness." He bowed his head to her in apology.

"You are not known for clumsiness, Purifier." She replied with a smile, waving away his apology. It occurred to Selene at that moment that the Purifier may know where the woman was being held but she could not just come out and ask him. "Are you well, Sir? You looked upset when you rounded the corner." Selene knew the private man would not confide in her but maybe she could gauge the honesty of his response.

"I am well, my Lady. It has been a busy couple of days. There are so many new converts and the purifiers have been working around the clock to process them. I suppose I'm just a bit over tired." The Purifier was getting nervous under Dame Zhylaw's gaze. He was having trouble looking her in the eye after what he had just seen. Part of him wanted to tell this woman of her husband's deeds, the other part wanted to shield her from them. "I must return to my duties, Lady, a fine day to you." Bowing, the Purifier made his way down the hall.

Selene watched his retreating form disappear around the corner. That was strange. The Purifier had given her a believable excuse for his distractedness, but for some reason she didn't believe him. Perhaps it was just the past day's events that left her suspicious of the Purifier's behavior. Maybe he _was_ just tired. She would keep a close eye on him just in case.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 9

The Purifier hurried along the corridor anxious to escape Dame Zhylaw's scrutinizing gaze. Most of the Necromongers, Zhylaw included, believed the Lady to be a woman of great beauty but little intelligence.

Enan was not so easily fooled by appearances.

Selene saw more than most of the ladies of the court, with the exception of Captain Vakko's wife, perhaps. She was up to something. Enan could only imagine what the woman thought of the attack on her husband. The Purifier was certain the Lady was curious about the prisoner the Lord Marshal had taken. If he were in her place, he would be curious, too.

When the Purifier reached the conversion rooms he decided to check up on Dame Zhylaw's whereabouts for the past few hours. He watched as the view screen displayed her location for the past 8 hours at 5 minute intervals. She had passed her morning with the chatty wives of the council members gathering information. She also passed by the conversion rooms and the prison ward before he met her in the halls.

Enan thought she was fishing with her questions about his health.

The Purifier gave Zerdor orders for the next shift and made his way to the dressing rooms. He collected a variety of garments that would suit her, placed the clothing in a bag along with some other necessities and headed back to the Lord Marshal's rooms.

When Enan entered the sitting room it was already cleaned. The automatic sanitizers had erased every trace of blood from the walls, floor and upholstery. The woman was just as Enan had left her, sleeping on the couch. He could tell even from across the room that her back was almost completely healed. The skin was still slightly pink where the open gashes had been, but otherwise, she looked as good as new.

Enan programmed the nanos to heal her injuries completely. Many of the Necromonger warriors chose to retain the scars they received in battle. They were evidence of the warriors' fierceness. The same could not be said for the Ladies of the court. If they received so much as scratch they were at the conversion rooms in minutes screaming for one of the purifiers to heal them. None of them would suffer marred flesh; their vanity would not allow it.

This woman did not seem the type to care about her looks over her health. Lord Zhylaw told Enan to heal her; it was the Purifier's decision that her skin remained flawless. The woman began to stir, her eyes opening. He gave her a small smile that she did not quite return.

Anya rolled onto her side, her back to the wall and pushed herself up with her right arm, her left holding the remnants of her blouse against her body. The man, Enan, was standing above her. She could not remember falling asleep but her back no longer screamed in pain so she must have been out for some time. The man stood quietly, watching her, it was making Anya uncomfortable.

She looked up at him, "How long was I asleep?" she asked quietly. Her throat felt better, too. Anya guessed the injection that healed her back must have healed her throat as well.

"About two hours." Enan took a step towards her, slowly, so as not to startle her. He bent down and picked up the glass of water. "I'll get you a fresh glass." He left the room and hurriedly refilled the glass. Returning to the woman's side he handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said with the slightest of nods. She took a few sips and handed the glass back to Enan.

"I've brought you a bag of clothing and other items."

Anya looked down at the blood splattered rags she now wore. She needed a bath.

Enan placed her glass down on the corner table and walked back to the couch. He watched her examine her tattered and bloody clothes. "There is a sonic shower in the bedroom. You can bathe there."

Anya nodded and attempted to stand. She rocked unsteadily and Enan grabbed her by her arm before she could collapse.

"Careful." Enan caught her and braced her with his left arm as she regained her balance. He could feel her body tense at his closeness; she held her breath. "I'll help you."

The two began their slow walk to the Lord Marshal's bedchamber. Anya looked around at the dining table and large sitting room where her nightmare began the night before. The room was just as it had been except the dishes had been cleared away. The man was leading her toward the one room she had not yet entered. She did not want to be in _his_ bedchamber but at the moment she needed a restroom and a shower. She had no choice. They reached the entryway and the doors slid open. Anya was shocked at the size and opulence of this room. She had not really looked at it the night before. She didn't like the thought of being in this room and was thankful when they passed into the room's grand bath.

Enan walked her in and sat her on an elaborate stone bench. He turned to her and saw the discomfort in her face. "I'll go retrieve your clothing while you use the facilities," Enan paused, "Can you manage yourself?" Enan felt as uncomfortable as the young woman looked. He saw the woman nod and left the room, closing the door behind him. He retrieved the clothing he collected for her and waited outside the door. He heard the refresher cycling and knocked on the door. "I have your clothing." Unsure, he added, "May I come in?"

"Yes." Her soft voice was barely audible through the closed door. She was sitting once again on the stone bench holding her shirt around her. She looked incredibly vulnerable to Enan and, although she tried to hide it, frightened. How could he reassure her? He put the bag down beside her and motioned for her to examine its contents. Well, they needed to get this over with. "Do you think you can stand in the shower or do you need assistance?"

Anya looked up at the man's question. She did not think she could stand long enough to complete a shower cycle. She could not conceal the panic in her eyes. The man looked at her with understanding. "You can keep your clothing on. The sonic shower can clean through anything." Anya's heart slowed slightly. The man, Enan, held out his hand for her. She took it tentatively and he pulled her once again to her feet.

Enan wrapped his left arm around her back and walked her to the shower stall. He paused suddenly and looked down at the woman on his arm. Anya was startled by the sudden change in the man's demeanor. She met his eyes; he was smiling down at her.

"I still haven't asked your name." He laughed lightly. The sound made Anya smile instinctively.

She answered him without hesitation, "Anya, it's Anya."

Enan repeated her name aloud. It was a beautiful name. It suited her. Enan helped her towards the shower stall. It was more than big enough for both of them to stand comfortably. "Hold onto the wall grips while I set the program." Anya did as Enan asked. Enan moved to the control program and programmed the shower. He returned to her side just as the program began running. It felt strange standing in the shower in his robes but he had told her the truth. There was no reason to remove one's clothes if the shower was set properly; Enan supposed he did so out of habit. He held Anya's waist to steady her, she kept both hands on the wall grips. He watched as the shower dissolved away the blood from her back leaving her skin clean and smooth. It took Enan every ounce of control not to touch her. He was growing impatient for the cycle to end.

"Who are you, Enan?" The Purifier was startled out of reverie by Anya's quiet question. He knew this would come sooner or later. He would have preferred later but at least her question distracted him from her fair skin.

"I am the Purifier, the High Purifier, actually," he said simply. "I guess you could say I am the voice of the Necromongers and I am in charge of converting the new recruits."

Anya was silent after Enan's brief explanation. The man was an excellent speaker, the best she had ever heard- too bad his words had been hollow. It occurred to Anya that her fate might be that of the mindless drones that destroyed her planet. She would not give in to them.

Enan felt her tense once more. She had not responded to his words. "What is it?" He found himself desperate to ease her tension.

"I will not convert." She spoke with finality.

Enan admired the strength in her voice. When he first saw what Zhylaw had done to her, he was certain her bravery would abandon her. He was relieved that Zhylaw failed to break her will. What did concern Enan was the Lord Marshal's admission; _I do not wish her to be purified. I only wish her wounds to be healed_. Enan was not sure if he should tell her of the Lord's words. It could wait.

The shower cycle ended and Enan helped Anya out of the shower and back to the bench. He handed her the bag and left her to change. "Call for me when you are ready," He said before closing the door behind him. Anya examined the clothing closely. All of the pieces were black – not a color Anya preferred, but the materials were quite beautiful. She dressed as quickly as she could, leaving the tattered rags on the floor. Anya stood and made her way slowly to the door. It slid open.

Enan stood on the other side of the door waiting for her to call him. He was not completely surprised to see her walking on her own. She did not like showing weakness anymore than Enan or Zhylaw. He could tell she would need him, though, to get her back to the sitting room. He did not wait for her to ask for help. He took her arm again and walked her back to the large sitting room. He could tell she was uncomfortable in Zhylaw's chambers. She relaxed considerably when they reached the main room.

Enan was leading her to the sofa when the main doors opened. The Lord Marshal strode into his chambers and stopped short at the sight of Enan carrying his pet across the room.

"Purifier, I see you've taken care of my little friend." He approached them, smiling brightly. Zhylaw lifted a hand to touch Anya's face. She flinched as his hand met her cheek. "She looks as good as new." Zhylaw scanned the woman from head to toe, taking in the new convert clothes she wore. Her feet were bare; the skirt reached just below her knees. Anya had been covered from head to foot in long sleeves and pants when Zhylaw brought her here; he preferred the softer silks and her exposed skin. "I like your taste in clothing, Purifier. Remind me to have you pick something out for Selene."

Enan could feel Anya's heart rate increase the moment Zhylaw entered the room. Her entire body tensed when he touched her and she trembled slightly. Instinctively, Enan tightened his grip on her arm and his face reverted to a cool mask. When Zhylaw withdrew he helped Anya to the couch. He addressed the Lord Marshal.

"I merely chose from what was available, my Lord." That was a lie. Enan had known exactly what he was looking for when he went to the dressing rooms. Perhaps he should have chosen something else instead.

"Thank you for your assistance, Purifier. You may go." Enan stood rooted to the floor. He did not want to leave her with this man but he had no choice. Enan bowed to the Lord Marshal and walked to the door, exiting quickly. He did not look back at Anya. He didn't want the Lord Marshal to discover that he cared about the girl.

Unfortunately, he was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

**Warning**: Violent interlude. Not too bad.

Chapter 10

The Lord Marshal was delighted to catch the Purifier off guard. He entered his chambers to find the man carrying Anya towards the sofa. He held her with such care. Zhylaw saw the concern and compassion in the man's expression and he watched it vanish in an instant. The Purifier's cool mask rose hastily, but he was not quick enough. Zhylaw saw what he needed to and he was more than pleased.

The Lord Marshal then turned his attention to the girl. No evidence of Zhylaw's punishment remained except perhaps her shaky legs. He was pleased, however, when she shrank from his touch, fear momentarily evident in her eyes. His eyes took in the new clothing she wore and the skin it revealed. He was not lying to the Purifier when he complimented him on his choice of garments. They flattered the tiny woman.

The Lord Marshal dismissed the Purifier. The man left without a backward glance at the girl he had so carefully helped to the chair. It was undoubtedly a show for the Lord Marshal's benefit.

The doors closed behind the Purifier and Zhylaw was at last alone with his pet. He moved to her side and sat down on the couch beside her. He could tell that she was fighting to control her fear. He had been worried his punishment would break her and he'd find that she was not so worthy of his esteem. Zhylaw was pleased her courage had not abandoned her so easily.

"I want to see your back." Zhylaw reached out toward her.

Anya's eyes filled with anger at the Lord Marshal's words. She had no desire to give in to his wishes but she knew it was not a request. In any case, she did not have the strength to stop him. She turned angry eyes toward him but did not reply.

Anya turned her head and looked directly at him, the same look in her eyes that made him loose control the previous night. It brought a smile to his lips. He placed a hand on the hem of her shirt and slid it up her back. He did not avert his eyes from hers and she did not try to stop him. Zhylaw marveled at her restraint. He turned his gaze to her exposed back. Not a mark to show for his impressive work, only a few fading lines on her lower back. They would be gone in an hour.

"The Purifier has done an impressive job." He ran fingertips across her smooth skin, raising goose bumps as they passed. "Beautiful."

Anya pulled her shirt back down angrily. Zhylaw returned his gaze to her and graced her with a devious smile. He stood, moved towards the bar, and played with the keypad there.

"I have already ordered us dinner. It should arrive at any moment. Would you like a drink tonight?" He turned to her but received only a head shake in response. Zhylaw poured himself a glass. Before he could return to the sitting room the door chimed. Zhylaw allowed his servants entry and watched them as they quickly set the table. They bowed to their Lord and exited quickly, as they always did. Zhylaw moved to the dining table. "Come, sit." He spoke to Anya without looking at her.

Anya made no motion to stand, nor did she respond to his words. She could not sit with this man, not after last night. So she sat, looking at her hands.

Zhylaw immediately marked her lack of response. She said nothing and made no move to join him. Zhylaw returned his attention fully to Anya. He approached her casually.

"You do not wish to sit with me tonight, little one?" he asked in a mocking tone. Zhylaw stood above her with his arms crossed, waiting for her reply.

"Answer me!" He shouted the words at her and they echoed strangely in the high ceilinged room.

Anya was startled by the Lord Marshal's raised voice and jumped in her seat. She looked up at him, struggling to control her fear as she stood. Her head barely reached his shoulder but she met his gaze evenly. "I will not sit with you." The words come out perfectly controlled. They impressed both Anya and the man before her.

"No?" he reached out to grasp her arm but she jerked away violently and took a step away from him.

Zhylaw smiled, "Where do you think you will go? You can not escape me, Anya. You are mine."

His arm snaked out at lightning speed. Anya seemed to feel his hand on her before his arm even moved. She pulled away but could not break his hold. Her free arm knocked into something on the corner table that went crashing to the ground and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The sound of an object breaking drew Zhylaw's attention away from the girl. One of his priceless pieces from his many conquests landed on the stone floor and shattered. Zhylaw loved his trophies. He always took something of great importance to the people that he conquered. The ceramic statue was from Exion 6. It had been a great battle, his first as Lord Marshal, and the piece meant a great deal to him; so much so, he kept it here in his chambers instead of the public gallery. Cold fury gripped him at the loss of something so sacred.

Zhylaw's hand flew on its own and landed in a fierce backhand to Anya's face. She went sprawling to the ground, cutting herself on the broken ceramic shards.

Anya hit the floor; her hand flying to her face. It felt as if her head was going to explode. She stared up at the Lord Marshal and saw him looking down at the broken pieces. Suddenly, he rounded on Anya and she felt his booted foot make contact with her stomach.

"You will pay for this," he snarled grabbing Anya by the hair and lifting her back to her feet. He twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her face up to meet his, pressing her firmly against him. "That statue was priceless. I took it from the first world I ever converted." He struck her across the face again and she fell back onto the low couch, dazed.

Anya attempted to rise but Zhylaw punched her once more. The blow landed on the side of her ribs and there was an audible crack. Each breath Anya took was painful and the blows kept coming. She tried to make herself as small as possible her arms raised to protect her head, but it was no use. Zhylaw shouted angrily at her but Anya could not decipher the meaning of his words. Blessedly, Zhylaw's fist met the back of Anya's skull and she lost consciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

Chapter 11

Enan could not sleep. He lay in bed awake all night, thinking of her. Enan was more than uncomfortable with the way this woman was affecting him. He spent many, many years alone. Enan took lovers from time to time but they were all social climbing leeches who wanted him for his title. He never met a suitable partner and accepted the possibility that he never would. His work was enough to keep him busy and there were no shortage of court ladies to idle away his time.

Anya was the first woman to hold his attention like this. He could not push her out of his mind.

The Lord Marshal once said that he and Enan were more alike than either would admit. Enan was beginning to think that ridiculous notion may not be too far from the truth. There was something about Anya that both men were drawn to. If that were not the case, Zhylaw would have destroyed her back on Raynar I. Zhylaw wanted that woman; why, the Purifier could not say. If Enan was honest with himself he had to admit, he wanted her too. It was not simple lust that Enan felt for her, and he surmised that was not what the Lord Marshal felt either. It was stronger, overarching, a desire to possess something that is unattainable, something for which Enan felt unworthy, and possess it completely. Enan was also certain that that is where the similarities between himself and his Lord ended. Enan could not imagine harming Anya. Zhylaw, on the other hand, enjoyed causing her pain. It was _his _way of possessing.

Enan knew he would be called back to the Lord Marshal's chambers. He would have to heal her again. Enan didn't know how long he could watch her suffer without going mad. His logical mind told him that this could not last forever, that Zhylaw would grow weary of the woman and he would have her converted. But there was another voice inside him warning that there was more to Zhylaw's actions than had been revealed. The Lord Marshal's words echoed in Enan's head, _I do not wish her to be purified._ But what _was_ it he wanted?

There was nothing Enan could do for her and it left a knot of despair in his stomach. He could only heal her wounds and hold her hand until the Lord Marshal's game played itself out.

The sound of Enan's alarm clock brought him back to the present. It was time for work. Enan needed to stop by the conversion rooms and make sure the newest Necromongers were being processed properly. He needed something to take his mind off of Anya.

The Purifier dressed and headed down to his station. The morning shift was already hard at work. Moratan was leading a column of fresh converts out of the conversion rooms. They were dressed in the same style of clothing Enan picked up for Anya, except each one was covered in a hooded cloak. They would be presented to the Lord Marshal who would bless them and welcome them to the Necromonger ranks.

Enan spent some hours going over status logs, reviewing convert profiles, and performing observations of the new purifiers at work. He was able to push Anya to the back of his mind for a short time. His peace was short lived.

A young purifier approached Enan and bowed low. "Sir, I bring a message from the Lord Marshal. He requests your assistance. He asks that you report to his quarters, immediately."

Enan's expression revealed nothing. He nodded to the purifier, "Thank you, Korvan. I will return later to check on our progress."

With that, Enan left the room and hurried back to his chambers. He collected his medpack and something else he picked up late last night. He hoped he would not need it. Enan hurried down the long hall to the Lord Marshal's quarters. The doors opened for the Purifier and he was about to head to the sitting room when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Anya was lying curled up on the couch the same way he found her the previous morning. There were shards of glass all over the floor. He stepped on them as he moved to sit beside her. Anya's arms covered her face. There were ugly bruises on her arms and neck, her breathing was labored. Enan pulled out the medpad and scanned her for injuries; he felt sick. She had three broken ribs, a broken arm and a linear skull fracture along with innumerable bruises and abrasions. She was unconscious.

Enan went to work quickly. He pulled a small vial out of his bag, he had hoped he wouldn't need it but was glad to have it now. The previous evening Enan visited the public galleries. The Necromongers collected many things from the worlds they conquered. They even preserved rare and magnificent animals. The gamekeepers had a large supply of tranquilizers used to subdue and control the larger, more aggressive specimens. Enan collected an ample supply from their stores; without their knowledge, of course. He administered a dose of the drug to Anya before injecting the nanos. It would ensure she would not wake until her injuries were healed.

Enan brushed Anya's hair back over her shoulder. The bruising on her face made his blood run cold. Her eye was swollen shut and her lip split. Enan needed a drink. He stood and walked swiftly to the Lord Marshal's bar and poured himself a draught of thick amber liquid and downed it in one swallow. The fire it ignited in his mouth and throat momentarily dulled the pain in his heart. He poured another drink and moved to the room console to order cleaning. On his way, he picked up a piece of whatever had broken and turned it over in his hand. He had a terrible feeling whatever it had been had loosed the Lord Marshal's wrath.

After programming the console to clean the room he returned to the lounge and sat in the large chair opposite the sleeping woman. Enan watched her breathing ease. The slow rhythmic sound of her breathing drew out the weariness he'd been suppressing all morning. Exhaustion finally overwhelmed him and he drifted off to sleep.

Anya awoke confused; the searing pain she felt before darkness took her was gone. She opened her eyes and was further surprised to see _him_ asleep in the chair across from her. His head was propped up against the wing; he looked younger than he did when awake. She moved to a seated position stiffly. Her head still ached; she lifted her hand to touch the back of her head.

"You had a skull fracture." Anya didn't notice Enan waken. He was watching her with concerned eyes. "Bones take longer to heal than soft tissue." He stood and moved to her side slowly so as not to cause her unease.

"Did I wake up when you healed me?" she asked, touching her head gingerly.

"No." Enan pulled out his medpad and scanned her to make sure the bones were healing properly. He continued, "I found some medication to make you sleep."

Anya looked up at Enan; she was shaken by his words. He drugged her. She supposed she should be grateful; he saved her a good deal of suffering. She just wasn't sure she liked the idea of not knowing what was happening to her, even if it meant enduring pain. There was nothing she could do about it now and the man seemed to feel he had done the right thing.

"Thank you," she paused, "again." Anya stared at the blood on her hands, her blood.

"I think you need another shower. Can you stand?" Anya stood without help. She was not as weak as she had been the previous day, probably due to the excessive amount of whatever it was he kept injecting her with, but she still needed a steadying arm.

Enan directed Anya to the bathroom. He could hear her stomach growling along the way. "Did you eat yesterday?" he asked, concerned.

Anya looked up and saw the troubled look in his eyes, "No. I didn't." She replied softly. She looked away not wanting to think about the reason she missed her meal.

They reached the bathroom and Enan showed her how to work the sonic shower. "I will order food for you while you bathe. Call for me if you need assistance." Enan left her alone in the room.

Anya was relieved. The man was kind but she didn't want anyone to see her like this, weak and powerless. She depended on this man to care for her and she was fearful of being in his debt. Her father always told her that you never got something for nothing. _What would be the price of his assistance?_

Anya entered the shower. She did not remove her clothing this time, either. She didn't know if either man would return unexpectedly. The cycle ran and she emerged feeling superficially refreshed. She needed food, as her stomach reminded her continuously. She walked carefully through the bedroom holding onto furniture for support along the way. By the time she made it to the main room the table had been set and her mouth watered at the smell.

Enan heard the door to Zhylaw's bedchamber open. Anya stood at the threshold, leaning against the doorway. He walked to her side and offered her his arm. She was proud, he mused. He had a feeling she would not call him for help.

Anya reached the table with Enan's assistance but did not sit down; she simply stared at the chair. _She could not sit there_.

Enan was confused by Anya's hesitation. He knew she was hungry but she made no move to take her seat. "Will you sit?"

Anya shook her head. "I won't sit there."

Her words were uncompromising and Enan gave her arm a supportive squeeze though not truly understanding her reasoning. He suspected it had something to do with her evening with the Lord Marshal.

"Where shall we eat, then?" he asked in earnest. "We can eat in the lounge if you wish." Enan saw Anya nod her head. "I'll bring you a plate after I help you to your seat." He walked her to the chair; the one he fell asleep in, and returned to the table. Enan filled two plates with some of everything he ordered. He brought Anya her plate and placed his on the corner table. Then he poured them both glasses of water from the bar. She needed one. He placed the glass on the side table next to Anya and sat across from her on the couch.

Enan watched Anya's gaze shift to the glass. She seemed to look right through it. Her eyes drift to the floor. It was spotless, the sweepers picked up every last piece of the broken object. "I broke it," she stated, a tremor shaking her body.

Enan said nothing. He merely watched as she began to eat, testing each item on her plate before moving on to the next. Enan followed suit. They ate in silence for some time. He was nearly done with his plate when she spoke again.

"Where was your home world, Enan?"

Enan was taken aback by the woman's words. He thought she might ask him some questions but he certainly never imagined she would ask him about his origins. "I… why do you ask?"

She looked at the table, "He said he took it from a planet he conquered. I just wondered…." She did not finish her sentence.

Enan spoke quietly, "I was born on Furya. It was conquered almost twenty-five years ago." Thinking he answered her question sufficiently, he stood and picked up both of their unfinished plates. He placed them on the table and went to call the servants to clear the table.

Anya was curious of the Purifier's indifferent response. He didn't seem to be affected by the words he'd just spoken. "What was it like?"

Enan turned on his heels. Why was she asking him these things? It was so long ago, unimportant. "I don't remember." He stated abruptly, turning away from her.

"Of course you do. Tell me."

Enan stared at the ornate entryway to the Lord Marshal's chambers but he did not see it, her soft voice echoing in his mind. He was looking into the past. His home world, when was the last time he even thought of it? It was a long time ago. He could not remember. He was a Necromonger now, which was all that mattered. But sometimes, sometimes he would see something on a world or catch a scent that reminded him of those long forgotten days, days in sunlight and fresh air. He closed his eyes trying to keep the memories from rising. He felt a hand touch his arm. He looked down to see her concerned eyes searching his face. She was so beautiful.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She said with sincerity. "You don't have to talk about it."

Suddenly, with her there, holding his arm, Enan felt his inner walls crumble and old, forgotten memories came flooding back.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

Chapter 12

Anya removed her hand from the Purifier's arm and took a step back. Enan walked away from her and took a seat on the sofa, elbow on knee, and head in hand. He looked so lost.

She didn't know quite what to say, she didn't want to upset him further. She'd asked him about his home world. It seemed a simple question at the time. Now she was afraid to say anything else. She took her seat in the large wing chair and watched the man carefully.

He lifted his head and released a slow breath. He did not look at her but instead his eyes drifted to the large windows overlooking her conquered planet.

"I only lived on Furya for a short time," he began slowly, "My mother died when I was six and my father moved us to the fourth moon of Xion 6. I think he couldn't bear to remain on Furya without her. There was a call for brave men on the moons of Xion and so my father answered the call; at least that's what he told me."

Anya sat back in the chair enraptured by the man's openness and his easy storytelling. She wondered if he had ever told anyone else this story. She was reminded of his speech in the capital, his voice was captivating.

"My father always told me that our people were great warriors. He started my training when I was seven. He said we might return to Furya one day and I would need to show our people that I had not forgotten the Furyan ways. Those were my favorite times with my father." The Purifier paused, trying to recall his father's face, "He died when I was fifteen."

Anya's breath caught in her throat. Her father, he was dead. She felt strangely sympathetic toward the man; at least she had had another ten years with her father. She couldn't think about that now. _Later._

"I left school and started working. I was saving up money for a return trip to Furya. I still had family there. Word came a few months later. Furya had been destroyed. No one knew the details. They said there was a great battle and that a race from another world had conquered the planet. I was devastated. Not just for the loss of my people, but because I was now truly alone in the universe. I stayed where I was; there was nowhere else to go."

Enan's eyes came back into focus. His gaze swept the Lord Marshal's chambers. They really were impressive rooms, just like the rest of the ship, the armada, truly impressive. In the eyes of a young boy, a boy who had lost everything, they were magnificent.

"The Necromongers came to Xion 6 two years later. They brought the entire planet and its five moons to their knees in a single night." Enan stood and walked to the window, looking out over the planet Raynar. "I had never seen anything like them. All of the stories my father told me of our people, their prowess in battle. I knew it had to be these people that defeated mine. That meant they were the best warriors in the galaxy. You couldn't imagine my joy when the Purifier spoke of joining this great race on their journey to paradise. I began my new life and never looked back." _Until today_, he added silently.

Enan moved back to the couch. He could not identify the flurry of emotions he felt, reliving the story of his early years. Sadness, guilt, shame. There was no going back. He could not change the past and he was not sure he wanted to. He was not lying when he said he had no one. The Necromongers gave him a home, a people, why would he give that up? He was drowning in confusion. He looked up at Anya to see her looking out the same window. There were tears in her eyes. His distress increased further with the thought that he might have upset her with his words.

Anya saw the Purifier's eyes on her. She had been unable to stop the tears, her father, her world, they were gone. She was alone on this ship with the people who took them away. _I was now truly alone in the universe._ Enan's words ripped into Anya, releasing the emotions she worked so hard to suppress the past few days. The tears kept flowing and quiet sobs wracked her small form.

Enan moved swiftly to her side and kneeled down in front of the chair. He took her hand in his and squeezed. "Anya," he spoke softly, trying to reach her through a veil of tears. "Anya, tell me what's wrong."

Anya could barely speak between sobs but managed to choke out, "My father." She pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head down on them.

Enan stilled at her words. The Proud Man; Enan had forgotten about him. He was her father. Anya continued crying, she looked so scared, exposed. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, hold her close and rock her until her tears abated. He did not dare touch her so intimately. She seemed terribly vulnerable and he would not take advantage of her fragile state. After some time, Anya's choked sobs slowed and her breathing steadied, she had cried herself to sleep. Enan lifted the tiny woman easily and carried her back to the sitting room. He laid her on the divan and covered her with a light blanket before returning to his other duties.

Author's Notes:

I've always been curious as to how the hell the Purifier ended up on board that ship if Zhylaw went out of his way to kill off Furyan men. I'm guessing he probably wasn't on Furya at the time. If you don't think so that's your call. This is my story.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

Chapter 13

Selene was growing more frantic with each passing day. Zhylaw visited her every night for the last ten days. In the past, she would have been elated by his attention. Now, it made her sick. He didn't come to her for companionship or conversation; he came to use her body. In the morning, he would kiss her on the cheek and leave her feeling like a filthy rag. She had briefly considered refusing him, but Selene was terrified of the consequences. She was not afraid of his anger or even that he might force her to submit. She was afraid he would not care, that he would replace her with another, one who would not refuse his advances. What would the Lords and Ladies think of her if Zhylaw cast her aside? She could not think about that now. She had to act.

The Purifier was the key.

Selene surveyed the ship's logs for the past ten days. Enan visited her Lord's chambers every day since the victory on Raynar, sometimes more than once. Zhylaw was always elsewhere when the Purifier came by his chambers so he must have programmed the doors to admit him. Selene was not so honored. She had never been invited inside her husband's quarters. Was it possible _she_ was in there? Why would he keep her in his rooms? There were prison cells, empty chambers, what could he possibly want her there for?

Selene felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of that breeder being given access to her husband's private rooms. Rooms even she, Dame Zhylaw, had never seen.

_Why is he doing this? _The words echoed in her ears, deafening her. Her soul was crying out for an explanation and Selene would have one!

Selene followed the Purifier's movements from the console in her chambers. From 08:00 to 12:00 hours he was at his work station or moving around the conversion rooms. At 12:37 he left the conversion rooms and headed for the upper levels of the Necropolis. Selene was ready. She collected her cloak and data pad and headed out. She would catch the Purifier off guard.

Selene hurried along the upper level corridors toward the Lord Marshal's suite. On the data pad she could track the Purifier's movements. He stopped briefly in his quarters before heading towards the Lord Marshal's rooms. From the shadows she watched the Purifier arrive at her husband's door. He pressed his hand against the access pad and the door opened before him. He entered swiftly without a backward glance.

Selene waited patiently in a dark corner of the hall; it was an hour before the doors reopened. She saw the Purifier's face as he exited her husband's chambers. For a moment his eyes held such sadness and then the man erected the cool mask that normally graced his handsome features. Selene did not know what was going on in there, but she would find out one way or another.

Selene followed the Purifier unseen as he returned to his rooms. He entered his chambers once more. Upon reaching the door Selene rang the chime. Selene was tired of creeping around in the shadows; it was time to confront the Purifier.

Enan was startled by the sound of the doorbell. He was certainly not expecting any company and he had not noticed anyone in the hall. Enan answered the door and was surprised to find himself face to face with an angry looking Dame Zhylaw. Before he had time to greet her she pushed her way past him and began pacing in his sitting room.

_I have a terrible feeling about this_.

Enan did not know why the Lady was here but by her demeanor and the fact that she had never before called on him, he had a good idea. He watched as she walked back and forth across the room. She finally stopped at his bar and poured two glasses of strong Kaldarion liquor.

"What can I do for you, my Lady?" he asked in a level tone.

"You know why I'm here, Purifier." She spit the words at him and slammed the glass he assumed was for him down on the dining table. Selene took a large gulp of the burning liquid before turning her eyes to the Purifier. The man seemed completely unfazed by her anger. He knew why she was here. His calm façade only fueled her rage.

Selene walked menacingly toward Enan, "Where is she, Enan? He has her in his rooms, doesn't he? That is why I can not find her."

Enan's was struck still by the Lady's words. He could not speak of this. Zhylaw's caution of privacy aside, he didn't think he could speak of Anya to anyone, least of all to this woman. Not after the things he'd seen.

Dame Zhylaw reached the Purifier. She stood so close he could feel her breath on his face, the fury in her eyes burned him. There was no use denying he knew about the Raynan woman. Dame Zhylaw had obviously had him followed and knew of his visits to her Lord's chambers.

"I can not speak about this, my Lady. You should ask your husband." He said carefully, gauging her reaction. She was not pleased.

"My husband! My husband!" the normally poised woman shrieked. "What should I ask him? Why he keeps a breeder in his rooms? Why he lies with me each night and thinks of _her_!"

Selene threw her half empty glass past the Purifier's head and it smashed into the wall. Enan started at the woman's violent outburst. He did not know how to respond to her hysterical ranting but her words had his mind racing.

It was less than two weeks since Anya was brought on board, but to Enan it felt like an eternity. Each day Enan healed cuts, bruises, and broken bones, all gifts from the Lord Marshal for Anya's disobedience. If she refused to sit with him, he would break her leg so she could not stand. If she refused to speak, he would beat her until he drew cries of pain from her lips. After punishing the girl, the Lord Marshal would disappear from his chambers.

Enan assumed Zhylaw spent his nights with one of his many lovers. It had not occurred to him that the man would visit his _wife_ after abusing Anya. The very thought nauseated him, and what's more, Selene knew. He felt an immeasurable amount of pity for the woman standing before him. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"He will replace me with that breeder. He favors her now. Enan, you must help me." The woman clasped Enan's arm pleading desperately for his assistance.

Favors her? Is that what Selene believed? How could he make this woman understand just how the Lord Marshal _favored_ Anya? He took the woman by both arms and held her fast. Dame Zhylaw calmed at the unexpected contact and the gentleness in the Purifier's eyes.

Enan knew he would come to regret this encounter. He was overcome with the desire to reveal Zhylaw's terrible secret. He wanted to show Dame Zhylaw just how much her husband favored Anya, of whom she was so obviously jealous. Selfishly, he also wished for someone else to share the burden of Zhylaw's crimes, a burden he now bore alone.

Enan spoke quietly to the Lady, as if he subconsciously feared being overheard, "She is in his chambers. I don't know why he keeps her there." He paused, feeling guilty for what he was about to suggest. "Gain entry to his rooms and you will understand. I can not help you, you must do it alone." Enan pulled her towards the door. "I will forget we had this conversation, my Lady, and you should do the same. Good day."

Selene was shocked back to her senses by the Purifier's words. Part of her had doubted the man would tell her anything at all. Now he admitted the woman was in Zhylaw's chambers. All she had to do was get in there and then, _and then what_? She would think about that later. Selene smiled weakly at Enan, wiping the tears from her face. Still disoriented by her emotional outburst she attempted to compose herself as best she could before leaving the room. She had a great deal of work to do and at least now she knew where to begin.

The doors slid open and the Lady turned back, bowing her head slightly to Enan, "Thank you, Lord Purifier, for your assistance. Good day to you." She exited the rooms leaving the Purifier to consider the consequences of what he'd just done.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

**Warning**: Violent content of a sexual nature. Don't like, don't read.

Chapter 14

Zhylaw did not like to think of himself as weak. Yet, he could think of no other word to describe his present state. And it was all _her_ fault. He could not sleep without dreaming of her and she haunted his thoughts by day. It was driving him mad.

He paced the floor of his war room. A casual observer would have thought the great Lord Marshal was considering his next conquest or the most artful plan to bring Rion to its knees. None would have guessed the tiny woman who attacked him would be the cause of his intense focus. Zhylaw needed to find a way to sever the hold she had on him and the only way to do that was to break her before she broke him.

No woman had ever captured Zhylaw so completely. It took all of Zhylaw's will not to touch her. He needed to regain control.

He would leave Anya beaten and bloody and visit his wife. He knew Selene was suspicious of his frequent visits, but she held her tongue. Her silence would not last.

Zhylaw slammed his fist into the hard stone desktop. _I will not give in. She will not bring me to my knees. _

Zhylaw stopped in his tracks as an idea came to him. Irgun, he would call on Irgun.

The Lord Marshal marched to his console and activated the comm. "Captain Irgun, report to the war room."

Out of the ether a deep angry voice echoed, "Right away, my Lord."

Zhylaw did not have long to wait before the giant warrior arrived at his door. The man bowed respectfully to the Lord Marshal and Zhylaw waved him into the room sealing the doors behind him. It would not due to have someone eavesdrop on this conversation.

"I have a job for you, Irgun, if you are up to it."

"Of course, my Lord, what is it you wish me to do?"

The Lord Marshal smiled inwardly at the man's favorable response. "Do you remember the Raynan girl you brought on board?"

The warrior's eyes grew cold at the memory of the attack on the Lord Marshal and the tiny woman responsible. His words were like ice, "I remember her, Lord."

Zhylaw was pleased at the warrior's reaction to his mention of Anya. He appreciated Irgun's unflinching loyalty. "You see, I thought I would teach her a lesson, teach her some respect."

Irgun's lips curled into an ugly sneer at Zhylaw's words.

"Unfortunately," Zhylaw continued, "my new pet has proven more difficult to break in than expected."

A confused expression appeared on Irgun's face. Zhylaw waited for the hulking man to formulate the question that was moving through his mind. Irgun was not the most eloquent of Captains, but his loyalty was unwavering. It was this quality that enabled the Lord Marshal to show him such patience.

"If you have been unable to…what I mean to say is… what is it you wish me to do?" the great man babbled.

"You see, pain does not work on her. I've spent the last two weeks hurting her body and still she meets my eyes, refuses to obey." Zhylaw looked out the window, lost in thought. Everything he had done. A lesser being would cower at his feet, beg him for mercy.

Not Anya.

He wondered idly if he would continue to be captivated by her once she lost her will to fight. He wouldn't know until he broke her. Then perhaps, her hold on him would weaken.

"She can feel pain?" Irgun asked in surprise.

"Yes. She has not been purified. Pain instills fear, or at least, in most breeders it would." Zhylaw turned to the warrior. He was truly a terrible sight. Many Necromongers retained their battle scars, but Irgun took that custom to a higher level. His visage was enough to make a legion of breeders quake in their boots.

He continued, "She will not be broken by pain. I believe a different approach is necessary." Zhylaw walked to his desk and sat heavily on the chair. "I want you to humiliate her."

"Sir?" Irgun looked, if possible, even more confused.

Zhylaw picked up a trinket from his desk and turned it over in his hands. "When was the last time you enjoyed the company of a woman?" he asked the warrior conversationally.

Irgun was startled by the shift in conversation but realization slowly dawned on him as the implications of Zhylaw's words sunk in.

Zhylaw continued without waiting for Irgun to respond. "I understand from Selene that the ladies of the court find you to be, what was the word she used? Ah, yes, _terrifying_." He enunciated the final word.

"I think Anya could use some attention." An evil grin graced his lips, "Perhaps you could help."

Irgun's cruel sneer matched his Lord's. "I'll help any way I can."

"Excellent." Zhylaw stood and walked around to the other side of his desk, taking a seat on the stone slab. His demeanor turned serious as he addressed the warrior. Zhylaw needed to be sure Irgun understood what he wanted. "Just be sure to remember whose toy you're playing with. I want nothing broken but her spirit. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord" Irgun replied.

Zhylaw stood and moved back to his seat. "One more thing, Irgun, I have one condition for lending out my pet to you."

"What condition, my Lord?" Irgun asked, curious.

A sinister smile spread across Zhylaw's lips. "I get to watch."

* * *

Anya woke at the opening of the sitting room doors. The Lord Marshal entered followed by a large, terrible looking man. Anya sat up on the sofa and waited for Zhylaw to speak. The large warrior stood quietly beside the doorway. Anya watched him warily out of the corner of her eye. She had seen no one aside from Zhylaw and Enan since she awoke days earlier. 

"I see you are awake." He lifted her chin and she met his eyes. "Good as new, are we?" The smile he graced her with chilled her bones but she controlled the instinct to shutter. She hated this man more than she could imagine hating another human being. It was her hate that kept her strong, that gave her the courage to look him in the eye.

Zhylaw watched as Anya's eyes shifted once more to the man at the door. Her expression was guarded. It was time to see just how much his little lovely could take.

"This is Captain Irgun," he gestured toward the man at the door, "do you remember him?"

Anya allowed herself to take a look at the large man. She did not remember him or know why she should.

Zhylaw watched her hesitate, "He carried you from the capital building." The Lord Marshal twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, "I think you owe him thanks."

Anya turned back to Zhylaw, "You think so?" she replied acidly.

"Hmmm," Zhylaw looked at his companion, "and I'm afraid Irgun is ever so protective of my person. You made him quite angry that day."

Anya's attention shifted to the stranger. She did not like where this conversation was headed.

"Lucky for you Irgun is my most faithful servant. He wouldn't harm a hair on your head without my permission."

Anya looked up at her tormentor with all of the hate she could muster. His hand caressed her cheek and she jerked away.

"And I have given it."

Anya's eyes darted back and forth between the two men. Zhylaw took a few steps back from her and looked to the man at his side, "Shall we?"

The giant warrior moved more quickly than she thought possible. He grabbed her roughly and hoisted her over his shoulder, pinning her legs against his chest. Anya yelled and pummeled the man's back with clenched fists.

Irgun lifted the tiny woman with ease. She thrashed in his arms and struck his back with her fists. He laughed at her feeble attempt to free herself from his grasp. He followed the Lord Marshal to his bedchamber. Upon entering the room he tossed Anya carelessly onto the large bed.

Anya struggled harder when she saw where the large man was taking her, _his_ chambers. The man threw her down on the bed and she scrambled to escape his reach.

Her mind was screaming.

_I will not beg. I will not beg._

Irgun grabbed Anya's thigh and dragged her beneath him as she tried to escape across the bed. He wrapped his hand around her throat to still her. Her hands pushed against him as he leant close to cover her mouth with his own.

Anya could not escape the powerful man. He kissed her hard on the mouth, biting her lip and drawing blood. She was finally able to turn her face away from his but was met with a more terrible sight. Zhylaw stood, leaning against the wall, watching. His eyes raked over her as Irgun ripped the fine silk robe from her body. Anya closed her eyes and prayed this terrible night would pass quickly. She needed pain to escape, to separate her mind from her body.

But the pain did not come.

Irgun's hands moved across the tiny woman's body. Her skin was so soft. It had been a long time since he'd possessed something so sweet. He reminded himself, _not too rough, Zhylaw said, not too rough_. He claimed her mouth once more, his hands moving to free himself. Irgun pulled the woman's knees up around his waist, he could feel her muscles resist but he was stronger. "Beautiful" he whispered against her mouth as he entered her.

Anya cried into the man's mouth as she felt him push into her. She was not ready. It had been a long time since she had laid with a man and her body screamed its reminder. She was ready for the pain to increase but the man did not move. He breathed hard into her neck while his hands moved to her hips, holding her still. He gave her time to adjust to his size and then began moving slowly against her.

Anya could feel herself drowning in her own tears. She tore at the man's back with her fingernails but he took her arms and pinned them down above her head. She wanted him to hit her, beat her unconscious, anything to escape the feel of his body against hers. He began moving more forcefully, his pace quickened and all she could do was wait until he finished.

Irgun shuttered hard as he reached his climax breathing heavily into the woman's neck. He could hear her quiet sobs once more and tasted the tears that ran down her face. He withdrew and rolled off of her onto his back.

Anya slid to the edge of the bed trying to put as much distance between her and her attacker. She curled in on herself; eyes closed, and tried to steady her breathing. She felt the edge of the bed dip and a hand run through her hair. Zhylaw's voice sounded in her ear. "You didn't ask me to stop him. You could have asked me, you know?"

Zhylaw ran his fingers through her now tangled hair. He wanted to touch her soft, exposed skin, but he wouldn't, not yet. He brushed the hair out of her face, but she did not look at him.

"Do you want to ask me now?" Zhylaw waited for Anya's reply. He received none.

She did not meet his eyes.

Zhylaw smiled.

"I'll leave you in Irgun's care, then," he turned to the large man sprawled on his bed, "good night. I'll have Enan clean up the mess in the morning." The Lord Marshal withdrew from the chamber leaving Anya alone with the giant warrior.

Without warning, a large arm wrapped itself around Anya's waist. Anya gasped as Irgun pulled her back against his chest, "I'm not done with you yet, little one."

Grabbing her arm, he rolled Anya onto her back pinning her arm beneath his side. Anya turned her face away from the terrible looking man but he took her chin in hand and turned her face back to him. He kissed her leisurely on the mouth as his hand moved down the length of her side. His mouth trailed along her cheek to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "Do you know our bodies respond to fear in the same way they do desire?" He brushed his fingers lightly across her breast, making Anya whimper. She clutched at his hand but could not stop its movement.

"I'll show you."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 15

Enan was growing weary. He walked toward the Lord Marshal's rooms preparing himself mentally for whatever he would find inside. He passed through the door and saw no sign of Anya in the lounge. He moved to the private sitting room and took a deep breath before entering. Anya lie curled up on the divan wrapped in a blanket. He approached her slowly; she was usually skittish after an attack. He reached her side and for the first time in many days he could see no sign of injury.

"Anya," he whispered, touching her lightly on the shoulder, "Anya, wake up."

Anya shrunk at the man's touch. She opened her eyes and saw someone standing above her. It was Enan. She closed her eyes again. She could not look at him.

Enan noticed Anya did not meet his eyes. He pulled the blanket down over her shoulder. She wore a different dress than he had left her in the day before. Her wrists bore some light bruising. Enan ran his hand over the marks. "Anya, what happened?"

He received no answer.

Enan grabbed his bag and pulled out the medpad. He passed the device over her from head to foot. There was slight bruising to her neck, her wrists. He passed the pad over Anya's abdomen and watched as the device picked up something he had been dreading since the first day he saw Anya lying on the floor. _Zhylaw_. Enan could feel the hate ignite within him like a flame. He scanned the readout for indications of internal injuries but detected none.

"Anya, look at me, please."

She shook her head and turned her face down into the cushion.

Enan placed his hand on her head and sat beside her as she cried. His heart broke for her. He needed to know what Zhylaw had done. "Anya, talk to me, please." He took her hand in his as he did each time he cared for her. It was all he could do. "Tell me what he did."

Anya's breathing calmed slightly. She could not tell Enan about last night. Thinking about it made her ill. She could feel the bile rising and choked it back down. She could feel Irgun's hands on her body, touching her like a lover would. He told her to beg. _Do you want me to stop? Beg me to stop, little one. You want to beg me, don't you? _Each word was spoken in concert with a sickening caress. Anya spent an hour after the warrior had gone vomiting in the bathroom and an hour more in the shower trying to dissolve every last trace of him from her body.

Her thoughts returned to Enan. She could not stay silent, not after all he had done for her. Her eyes remained closed but she turned her face so Enan could hear her speak. She whispered between uneven breaths, "It wasn't him."

Enan looked down at the sound of Anya's voice. "What? I don't…if it wasn't Zhylaw, than who?"

"I can't." Anya could feel panic rising and she began to hyperventilate.

Enan whispered words of comfort to calm her. "It's okay Anya, you don't have to tell me. Just breathe, breathe."

Anya slowly regained control over her breathing. She had to tell Enan about the warrior. If she didn't she might never be able to look Enan in the eye again and Zhylaw would have won. If she could make it through the night without begging she could tell Enan his name. "It was one of his warriors," Anya choked out. "He…he was huge and… and covered in scars."

"Irgun." Enan spoke the thought aloud. There was only one man in the Lord Marshal's service that fit that description. Enan's stomach turned at the thought of that madman's hands on Anya.

Anya clasped his wrist, drawing his attention back to her. "I'm alright. He didn't…he didn't hurt me."

Anya must have seen his pained expression but she did not quite meet his eyes. He could not show her his pain; she had enough of her own. Her words gave him little comfort. It was true there was barely a mark on her. He didn't think Irgun had it in him to be so gentle. A thought struck him, why didn't Irgun hurt her? But then, Irgun always did as he was told. Zhylaw must have told Irgun to rape her but not to injure her. Why would he do that?

Enan looked down at Anya. She had shown great strength these past two weeks but she kept her eyes averted. _He didn't hurt me._ No, why would he? Pain didn't work. Zhylaw tried pain. Perhaps he decided to try something else. That still didn't explain why Zhylaw had another man rape her.

"He just left you with Irgun?" he asked.

Anya took a slow breath. She could do this. "No, he watched," she paused, "He wanted me to beg him... to stop Irgun. He wanted me to beg! I wouldn't, I wouldn't…" She could not stop the tears from falling or the sobs that wracked her small form.

"Anya," he held her hand tightly. "you are so strong, so brave." He sat lost in thought as she cried out her pain. He needed to comfort her but he wasn't sure what to say. A memory rose in his mind of a story he read in his youth. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

"On my world, there was a story about a young woman named Ralina. She was the most beautiful Furyan woman that ever lived with long flowing red hair and bright green eyes. She sang like an angel and was skilled in the arts of war. One day, Dorin, the god of war, saw her as she bathed in a river. He was struck still by the sight of her and wished to make her his own. Dorin approached her in human form as she bathed, and tried to capture her, but she eluded him. Dorin pursued her, but was stopped by his father, Xenaphus, king of the gods. Xenaphus demanded an explanation for Dorin's actions against the mortal woman. Dorin told his father of Ralina's beauty, her skill in battle, and his desire to possess her. Ralina yelled in rage at the god of war. She would never submit to any man, mortal or god alike.

Xenaphus didn't know what to do. He didn't wish to stand against his only son, but he needed to protect his Furyan children as well. Xenaphus decided on a compromise. He told Ralina if she could make it to the top of Mount Cyrian in a day she would be free of Dorian forever, if not, then Dorian could take her as his wife. Ralina had climbed the great mountain more than once and accepted the challenge. She took off without a word to Dorian or Lord Xenaphus.

Ralina made the journey with bow and knife in hand. What she did not know was that Dorian shadowed her, lying traps in her path. Before she made it a quarter of the way up the mountain she was attacked by a rathnar. It was the largest one she had ever seen, standing 10 feet on its hind legs, covered with angry red scales. It took 5 arrows to fell the creature, but Ralina escaped with only a handful of scratches.

She traveled along more cautiously now. She knew Dorian sent the rathnar to slow her down. A couple of hours later she crossed paths with a pair of hellhounds. One she killed with an arrow through the eye but the second knocked her bow from her hands and she hit the ground. The creature pounced on Ralina but at the last minute she rolled away and cut the animal's throat as it landed beside her.

As she made her way to the highest peak, Ralina heard a rumbling sound from above. She watched as an avalanche of rock and mud came crashing down. Ralina moved quickly across the rock face and found shelter beneath a stone outcropping. The deadly flow ran down the mountain leaving Ralina behind. She climbed the remainder of the way up the mountain and stood triumphantly before Xenaphus.

Ralina bowed and spoke to the great god, 'I have done as you asked, Great One. Do as you promised. Send your son back from whence he came. Command him to leave me in peace.'

Xenaphus called upon his son who appeared on the mountaintop beside him. 'Your mortal has completed her task. She has made it to the top of the great mountain. You will leave her alone now, Dorian.'

Dorian bowed to the great god, 'Yes Father, as you wish.' Without another word the two gods vanished, leaving Ralina to make her way back down the mountain."

"Did he let her win?" Anya's small voice sounded from her place on the sofa.

Enan looked to Anya. He had not been sure she was listening. Her eyes remained closed even as she asked the question. "No," he said, "he did not."

"Ralina made her way to the bottom of the mountain. She walked along the river toward her home but stopped to bathe in her favorite spot. She dived into the pool below the waterfall. As she resurfaced she felt powerful arms wrap around her waist and drag her towards the shore. It was Dorian. He threw her to the ground. He told her that she could not escape him for he was a god and she was only mortal. She fought him but there was no escape this time. He was about to take her by force when she heard Xenaphus' voice in her mind. 'I am sorry, my child. I can save you, but only if you come with me.' She agreed."

Enan heard Anya's breathing hitch. She looked as though she was about to speak, so he waited. Finally meeting his eyes she asked him, "Where did he take her?"

"He took her soul from her body and raised it to heaven."

Anya stared at the floor but she did not see it. She was thinking ofthe story of Ralina and of her own suffering. A tear ran down her cheek as she whispered, "It was a good story, Enan, but I am not like Ralina."

"No?"

"I'm not a warrior, Enan. And there is no god coming to save me."


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Sorry about the wait, life happens. This one is just a short interlude between the good stuff.

Chapter 16

Anya was right, there was no god coming to save her. There was only a demigod, a half dead monster bent on destroying her will. When he did, all of this would be over.

"He will grow tired of this." Enan said in a sad voice.

"Will he, Enan? I don't think so. Not until I break, until I cower." She moved slowly to a sitting position clutching the blanket to her chest and drawing up her knees. She exhaled, long and slow. "I can't, Enan. I would rather die."

Enan believed her. Unfortunately, he knew that Zhylaw would not grant her death. The Lord Marshal always stopped short of causing mortal injury and Enan was ever ready to fix the damage he inflicted. Enan sent a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening to give Anya strength. He didn't think she could take much more of this. Every day it took longer for her body to heal, but at least her spirit had remained strong.

No longer.

Something inside her was broken last night. Enan saw it in the way she struggled to look him in the eye.

Part of him wanted Anya to give in to Zhylaw, if only so he would tire of her and have her purified. She would never feel pain again and Enan could…_could what?_ Take care of her? Tell her how he's grown to care for her… grown to love her…

He could not say these things now. If the Lord Marshal found out…but maybe, one day, when this is all over…

Enan was startled by Anya's angry voice. "Does it not anger you, Enan? Your home world, your people, your history destroyed at the whim of a madman!"

Enan had to admit to himself, he rarely thought about his past before his meeting with Anya. There was no need. The past was gone and there was no going back. But Enan had found himself thinking of the past more and more since the day Anya asked him about his home world. He thought of his father and the stories he told of Furya. He thought of the days he spent sunning himself on the Zelphian shore. He remembered that night, the night of the attack. He remembered the cries of children and the screams of women. He remembered the bodies of his friends, lying in pools of blood. He never cried for them and the guilt began to swamp his heart.

How could one woman make him question the course of his entire life?

Enan took Anya's hand in his and traced each finger with his own. Such small hands, yet they held immeasurable power over him, _and_ over Zhylaw.

That is what all of this was about, power – over worlds, over life and death, over a person's soul. Enan lifted Anya's hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand before placing it gently on her knee.

Anya watched Enan play with her hand and tried not to flinch when he kissed her. She wanted to be angry with Enan for his easy dismissal of his people, his past. She had to believe that somewhere inside this man the fire of his people still burned. Every time he told her a story from his childhood, a story of his people, a light shone in his eyes. That light gave her strength.

Enan's voice drew her attention. "I can't think of those things. They will drive me mad. I am here now, these are my people." Enan stood and turned away from the pain he saw in her eyes. "You need to let go of these thoughts, Anya. They will only make things worse for you."

Anya thought on Enan's words, _make things worse_? There was nothing that could make things worse, Anya was almost sure of it and she spoke the thought aloud, "I don't know how things can get any worse."

Enan wished he could say the same.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Please forgive the wait. I've had a few other obsessions that needed tending to.

Chapter 17

The access codes to Zhylaw's rooms were held by one man, the chief warrior guardian, Sesten. If the position of guardian had been held by any other man in the Necropolis there would have been no chance in the Underverse for Selene to get her hands on the codes.

Fortunately for Selene, Sesten _was_ chief guardian and he _did_ possess the codes.

The first day Selene set foot in the Necropolis she could feel Sesten's eyes upon her. He was tall, handsome, a man of great respect and authority. He would have pursued Selene, if another man of greater power had not also taken notice of her. Sesten was no fool; he would not challenge the Lord Marshal over a woman. Even so, his eyes would linger a second or two longer than appropriate when she passed him in the hall and Selene always noticed.

It was almost too easy.

Selene intercepted Sesten late one evening as he retired to his chambers. She'd followed the man's movements for days and waited for him when she knew he'd be returning home. Selene made sure to wear a dress that was cut low and skin tight, taking a note from Dame Vakko. She stepped from the shadows as Sesten placed his hand on the access pad to his chambers.

"Lord Sesten, may I have a word with you?" The Lady gave the warrior an innocent smile.

Sesten looked up at the Lady in surprise. He took in the sight of her beautiful flowing hair and the way her gown hugged her every curve. She was a vision. It took all his will to keep his eyes on hers. "Dame Zhylaw, you may have as many words with me as you wish." He kept his expression stoic, trying to mask the effect she had on him.

"May I come in?" She gestured to the door.

The warrior seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding his assent. "Please, come in," he said, gesturing to the now open door.

The Lady preceded Sesten into the sitting room and took in the décor. The room's architecture was no different than that of any other sitting room on the Necropolis, but the artwork was spectacular. Selene had never seen such beautiful paintings. She walked up to one piece, tracing the ghost outline of what looked like a woman walking in moonlight. The mood of the image was sad and filled with longing. Selene noted with surprise that the image of the woman bore a strong resemblance to her.

"It's beautiful."

Selene's knew her attention to the painting made the warrior uncomfortable. As she looked around the room she saw that all of the paintings were made in a similar style, possibly by the same artist. A thought occurred to her, "Did you paint all of these, Lord Sesten?"

Sesten shifted uncomfortably, "Yes, my Lady, it is," he paused to find the right words, "a hobby of mine."

Sesten watched as the Lady moved from one painting to the next, tracing the figure of the woman present in each one. "What can I help you with, my Lady?"

Sesten tried to draw her attention away from his artwork but to no avail. He never thought Dame Zhylaw would be inside his chambers. He now wished he had never hung these works in the public sitting room-he should have known better. It was too late now. Selene took her time examining each painting. Sesten held his breath, hoping that the Lady would not see herself reflected in his works.

Selene could not help but be amazed and deeply flattered. At least a dozen paintings dedicated to her. Each one filled with such longing, it broke her heart. No man ever made her feel as precious as this man seemed to do with a few simple brush strokes. It made her feel sick for what she was about to do. But Selene had an agenda and the discovery of just how deeply Sesten's feelings for her ran would only make things easier.

"Is this how you see me, Sesten?" She turned away from the last painting to face the warrior standing across the room. He seemed to be working out just what he was going to say. With a look of defeat he walked to his bar and poured himself a tall glass of liquor before replying, his back facing her.

"I'm sorry, my Lady." It was all Sesten could think of to say.

"Sorry?" Selene approached the man who refused to look at her. "Sorry for what, Sesten?" She paused when she stood within a few feet from him. "No one sees me like you do, not even Zhylaw…"

At the sound of his Lord's name Sesten flinched. _What have I done?_ I should have pushed her out of my mind years ago, not immortalize her on my walls- but God help me, I couldn't. He looked at the woman who haunted his dreams and gave her a sad smile. "I should not desire something I cannot have. He won your heart, as I knew he would. No one would choose a Guardian over the Lord of the Necromongers."

"You never gave me the chance, Sesten. You abandoned me once the Lord Marshal cast his eyes on me, but you still watched." She moved closer to the warrior forcing him to meet her eyes. "You watch me, still, Sesten, I've seen you."

"I shouldn't." He looked down, ashamed by his weakness. "You are his wife. It is wrong. Please forgive my weakness."

Selene moved closer to the man, her chest nearly touching his and looked up into his dark brown eyes. She placed one hand on his right arm and the other caressed his cheek causing him to meet her eyes once more. "If desire is a weakness, then I am weak, too." Selene leaned into the warrior standing on tip toe and pressed her lips to his. Sesten stood frozen in shock for a moment before wrapping his arms around the woman he dreamed of for the last six years and kissing her deeply.

When she finally pulled away from him, Sesten could see sadness in her eyes. "What is it?"

A tear ran down Selene's cheek and her voice caught in her throat. "You do love me…don't you?" She touched his cheek once more, "Please, forgive me."

Before Sesten could ask why she needed his forgiveness, his vision began to blur and he found it difficult to think. "What…" The large man stumbled back and sat himself down on the couch to stop his head from spinning. He watched his Lady take out a handkerchief and press it against her lips. He could hear her voice echo in his head as if from a distance.

"I'm sorry Sesten, but I need some information and you are going to give it to me."

Selene made her way to her husband's quarters trying to push Sesten out of her mind. She needed to prepare herself for her confrontation with the Raynan. She didn't know what she would say to her or what she would do when she saw her. The closer she got to the rooms the angrier she became. A whirlwind of thoughts spun around inside her head. _How dare that woman think she could take my place! She's manipulated Zhylaw into keeping her with him!_

Still, a tiny part of her knew these thoughts made little sense in light of Zhylaw's behavior. He came to her. If this woman had truly taken hold of Zhylaw's heart, why would he come to her? It made no sense.

Selene reached the door and quickly keyed in the access codes. Zhylaw would be in a council meeting for at least another hour so she had no need to hurry once she was inside, but she didn't want anyone seeing her enter. The door slid open and she stepped quickly into the room. The lights were low but she did not raise them. Instead she walked slowly through the first room looking for any sign of the Raynan. There was none. Just a series of artworks Selene recognized as coming from conquered worlds. She followed the wall until she came to what should be her husband's bedchamber. She hesitated momentarily at the threshold but taking a deep breath and steeling herself she opened the door and passed into the dimly lit room.

There was nothing.

Selene spent a few minutes inspecting her husband's bedroom but found no indication that a woman shared these rooms with him. A wave of relief washed over Selene. Perhaps she'd been wrong all along.

She left the empty room behind and proceeded towards the only other room in the suite. Selene recalled the Purifier's cryptic words to her. He said she would understand if she gained entry to his chambers. Selene was no longer certain of what she was supposed to understand. The memory of Enan's face as he left these chambers days earlier gave her pause and for a brief moment Selene questioned whether she wanted to know what was behind those doors.

She had not come this far to falter now. She opened the door.

The lights were too dim to see much. Selene drew a blade she had hidden up her sleeve just in case. The room was smaller than the others but still much larger than any other private sitting room she had ever seen. Her eyes swept across the room but she could make out nothing that looked like a person. She took slow purposeful steps hugging close to the walls when her foot made contact with something on the floor.

The something moaned.

Selene jumped back, startled, and looked down at the dark shape in the corner of the room from which the sound had come. Selene could make out no details due to the shadows. She held her dagger in defensive position and called up the lights.

Selene was not prepared for what the lights showed her. It was the Raynan woman. She was curled up in the corner, her garments shredded and barely covering her body. The pieces that remained were bloody as was her skin. Selene could not count the number of bruises on her flesh. But what sickened her most were the teeth marks she could see on the woman's shoulder. Selene knew Zhylaw would punish the woman for her attack on him but that had been weeks ago and even in Selene's fantasies, she never dreamed Zhylaw would inflict such suffering upon the girl.

Selene backed away from the woman's broken form instinctively shaking her head. Her mind wanted her to turn away, but her eyes refused. _Gain entry to his rooms and you will understand. _Selene understood. She had not truly seen her husband until this night. She looked at the tiny woman's broken body, the woman she had directed so much hate at these past few weeks, and could not hold back the tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She whispered to the unconscious figure.

"Sorry for what, my dear?"

Selene spun around to face the source of that voice. "Zhylaw."

Her husband stood in the doorway with a blank expression, watching her. She had been so absorbed in the horror of the sight before her; she had not heard his arrival. A series of emotions passed through her; panic, fear and finally, anger.

"I believe you underestimated Sesten, my dear. The moment he realized his memory had been tampered with he contacted me. He feared that my life was in danger-that someone may have gotten the access codes to my quarters. He had no idea who it could be…I, on the other hand, had a feeling it would be you."

Selene remained silent. There was no reason for her to deny his claims seeing that he caught her in his quarters. He entered the room further and leaned against the doorframe.

"The purifiers said the poison was passed through his lips. There are only so many that Sesten would allow close enough to poison him. And you, my love, are the only one he would let that close." He moved across the room and in a few long strides effectively trapped Selene against the wall. He touched his fingers to her lips. "I wonder…how much did you give him before the drug took effect?"

Selene's eyes filled with shame, though not for her indiscretion against Zhylaw. Her guilt was solely for the man whose love she'd used against him. She would ask Sesten's forgiveness one day.

Selene slid along the wall away from her husband and took a few shaky steps backwards towards the door.

"How could you?" Selene could not stop her voice from shaking as her eyes darted back and forth between her husband and the woman on the floor.

Zhylaw glanced over his shoulder at Anya's huddled form. "Not me, darling. I was with you last night, wasn't I?" Zhylaw moved away from his wife to examine Anya. He could hear her labored breathing from across the room and see the bruising from her cracked ribs and the teeth marks on her shoulder. He couldn't withhold a laugh. "It looks like Irgun was less than gentle after I left last night."

"Irgun?"

"Yes, you see, I thought it was about time I rewarded him for his loyalty. And our discussion about his unpopularity with the Ladies led me to believe he would enjoy the company of my little pet." He leaned down to touch the bite marks on Anya's shoulder. "Enan will have a fine time cleaning her up."

"Enan knows." It was not a question. Selene remembered once more the look on the Purifier's face when he left her husband's chambers. This was why he came to Zhylaw's rooms, to heal the woman. What else have his eyes seen?

"Was he not the one who told you she was here? I've been wondering if he would do so eventually." Zhylaw rose and returned his attention to his wife.

"No. I…I followed him and, I saw him leave your rooms."

"Did you?" Zhylaw gave his wife a wicked grin. "Following two of my loyal servants? Did you give Enan a kiss as well, or perhaps something else?"

Zhylaw reached out to caress his wife's face, his eyes daring her to pull away. "Have I been neglecting you, Selene? Do you want more attention?" Zhylaw's eyes moved from his wife to the corner of the room, passed over Anya's body and returned to his wife. "Is that what you want, my dear? If so, I think Irgun would enjoy your company as well."

Selene's eyes moved to where Anya lie crumpled on the floor, her blood ran cold and she thought she was going to be sick. He wouldn't. Not to her.

Zhylaw saw the horror in his wife's eyes and laughed. "No, I didn't think so."

Selene's could not hold back her tears. Anger she did not think she could feel for Zhylaw rose swiftly and she cried out the question that had haunted her every moment since the victory on Raynar. "You did this to her… you let him…and you think of her, you come to me and you think of her…why?"

"Jealous are you, my darling?" Zhylaw held his wife's gaze, her eyes held such anger, such fear. A part of him pitied her. _Why?_

The answer came to him instinctively and he spoke it without reservation. "Because she would never submit to me like you do."

All of the blood drained from Selene's face at the look of disgust on Zhylaw's face. It was a betrayal of the worst kind. She had done everything to please this man for the last six years, been loyal, obedient, only to find that the very traits she prided herself on were the reason behind her pain. A woman who would not submit; Selene looked upon the broken woman. Her heart filled with pain when she saw the admiration in Zhylaw's eyes as he looked upon her.

Selene rushed past her husband leaving the horrors of his chambers behind. She could hear her husband's laughter echo inside her head long after he could no longer be heard.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 18

Enan appeared at Zhylaw's quarters as commanded. He was worried. A few days earlier, Zhylaw permitted Irgun to use physical violence against Anya, but only, of course, _after_ he raped her. The harsh treatment was taking its toll. Anya's physical state was deteriorating rapidly. She refused food from Zhylaw and ate little that Enan brought her. She was losing weight and growing weaker every day.

Enan entered the Lord Marshal's chambers and headed first to the small sitting room. He was surprised upon entering to find Zhylaw staring distractedly out the large windows.

"My Lord."

Zhylaw gave no verbal reply but acknowledged the Purifier with a nod. Enan took in the rest of the room and spotted Anya lying on her side in a dark corner. The rags she wore now had previously been a beautiful dress. Irgun took care of that. The Purifier kneeled down beside the woman and passed a medpad over her body. There was little need to look through the readout. There was nothing there he had not seen before. Enan injected her with a dose of nanos. There was nothing to do but wait for them to heal her. He began to wish the microscopic healers had more than a 12 hour activity period. Then they would be able to heal her injuries as she was recieving them. Enan could feel the Lord Marshal's eyes upon him while he worked. Finished, Enan lifted Anya into his arms and placed her gently on the couch.

Enan was startled by the sound of his Lord's voice. "So gentle, Enan, no wonder Anya favors you."

Enan didn't know how to respond to Zhylaw's words. There were a thousand sarcastic, witty or angry responses he could make, but none boded well for the conversation, so he settled for a change of subject. "Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?"

Zhylaw noted the Purifier's quick evasion but let it go, he enjoyed playing these word games with the only man in the Necropolis worthy of the effort. "Actually, it is nearly dinnertime; would you join me, Enan? I'm afraid Selene is not speaking to me at the present time and I would enjoy the company."

Enan looked up at Zhylaw, feigning surprise. He was certain Selene would be successful in her attempt to gain access to Zhylaw's quarters, though he was quite impressed by the speed with which she had done so. He wanted to know the details of their encounter but knew better than to ask.

"Come, Enan, and you can ask me what happened."

Enan's heart seized. He was beginning to believe that the Lord Marshal had the power to hear his very thoughts. He followed Zhylaw out of the sitting room and watched as his Lord moved to the computer console to order dinner. Enan decided it would be best to make himself useful. "Shall I pour us drinks, my Lord?"

"Yes, I'll have a brandy."

Enan poured him and his Lord drinks and took a seat on the comfortable wing chair. Zhylaw excused himself and disappeared into his chambers, emerging minutes later in less formal attire.

"Please, Enan, feel free to remove those gaudy rings and headdress. I know what a bother they can be when one is attempting to relax." Zhylaw said upon his return.

Enan laughed silently to himself. Relaxing in Zhylaw's presence was not an option. Still, he nodded in response to his Lord's suggestion, "Thank you, sir."

Enan removed his helmet and other pieces of regalia and placed them on a corner table. The door chimed and Zhylaw allowed the servants to enter and set the dining table. Upon their departure, Zhylaw motioned for Enan to sit beside him and both men filled their plates without a word.

Enan knew Zhylaw invited him to dinner for a reason, what it was, he didn't want to guess. He waited patiently for Zhylaw to speak, trying hard to ignore the tense silence, focusing instead on the food before him.

"Did you tell Selene to search my rooms, Enan?" Zhylaw asked before placing a slice of roast into his mouth. He turned his gaze to Enan, "She defended you so, when I asked her."

Enan looked up at his Lord, somewhat surprised by such a direct question. Usually, conversations with Zhylaw were far more cryptic than this. Enan found he was afraid to answer. Not for himself, but for Anya and for Selene. All the Purifier's years of politicking and deception seemed to have become useless in the face of this simple question. Enan could lie, but he was certain Zhylaw would see right through him, especially if Selene had given him up. Enan settled once again for something not quite a lie.

"She was upset about the Raynan girl and saw me leaving your quarters. I told her I could not answer any of her questions."

"Ah." Zhylaw smiled at his companion, "She was here this afternoon just before you arrived. She met our Anya. I don't think it was what she was expecting." A chuckle escaped him.

Enan could only imagine Selene's reaction upon seeing Anya's brutalized form. Enan wished desperately to turn this conversation in a different direction and was given a brief respite when he heard the doors, to what he had begun to refer to as Anya's room, open.

Anya walked slowly across the room making her way to Zhylaw's bedroom door. She walked on unsteady legs and held onto the furniture for support. She did not look to the two men at the dining table nor did she ask for their help. Both men watched her slowly make her way across the room.

Enan wanted to go to her, help her, but he feared doing so in front of the Lord Marshal. His worries became moot as she reached the entryway and disappeared into the chamber. Enan returned to his meal all the time feeling the Lord Marshal's appraising eyes upon him.

"She never asks for help. She would crawl across the room if necessary, if only to defy me. It is quite intriguing."

Enan gave his Lord a small nod of agreement. Before Anya's interruption, Zhylaw had given him the opening to ask about Selene. Against his better judgment, Enan decided he couldn't pass up the opportunity to collect information he might later require. "Dame Zhylaw was displeased, then?"

Zhylaw smiled broadly at Enan, "Displeased, I believe, is too light a term. I think she believed that Anya had cast some kind of spell over me and that I was here doing her bidding," he chuckled. "Oddly, she seemed equally upset upon finding out that was not the case." He paused to place another piece of roast in his mouth, "Women are strange creatures, aren't they?"

"That they are." Enan was more than angry by Zhylaw's casual dismissal of Selene. Enan may not consider himself friends with the woman, but she deserved better than this. "How was it that she was able to gain entry to your rooms?"

Zhylaw laughed once more. "It is quite an interesting tale." He swallowed a mouthful of food before continuing. "It seems my dear wife seduced Lord Sesten, who is, as we all know, quite enamored with her."

"Sesten?" Enan was surprised to hear of this and was briefly concerned for the guardian. Giving out such information could be considered treason. "He would not give such information to anyone willingly."

"No, of course not, she poisoned him with a truth serum. Sesten had no recollection of my wife, or anyone for that matter, coming to see him. I, however, had a feeling it was her the moment he contacted me."

Zhylaw stared at his drink contemplatively, "It is so sad to see a man brought to his knees by a woman. May neither of us suffer such a fate." Zhylaw raised his glass and nodded towards Enan who returned the gesture as a matter of course.

"Now, tell me of our preparations for Rion."

* * *

Much to Enan's relief, the two men ate the rest of their meal discussing matters of state.

Anya reappeared in the doorway just as the two completed their meal. She had bathed and put on fresh robes. She walked stiffly from the chamber. Enan had seen her in worse physical shape to be sure, but it was not her physical condition that concerned him. It was the emptiness in her eyes that haunted him now. Zhylaw motioned for her to join them and she moved painfully to the table taking the seat across from Enan. She didn't look at him or Zhylaw and she made no move to fill her plate.

"Will you not eat tonight, Anya?" Zhylaw spoke in a mocking tone.

Enan watched as she looked her tormenter directly in the eye, "I'm not hungry," was her only reply.

"You are hungry. If you do not begin eating soon I will have to have you force fed and that would be most unpleasant." Zhylaw moved to fill Anya's plate.

Anya stared at the plate with contempt. Eating kept her alive. She knew if she ceased to eat her suffering would end, but she heard the threat in Zhylaw's casual remark. He would force her to eat just as he had forced her to suffer so many other things. She picked up the fork with a trembling hand and put a small piece of something she could not identify into her mouth. It might have tasted good if Anya had not already lost the ability to experience anything other than pain. She ate two more pieces before her shrunken stomach began to protest and she returned the fork to the table.

"Is that it?" Zhylaw asked with eyebrow raised.

"I told you. I'm not hungry." Anya said icily, anger evident in her voice.

Enan watched the exchange in silent apprehension. Anya seemed so terribly weak and broken whenever he saw her alone. Yet in Zhylaw's presence, her eyes hardened and her voice seethed. She impressed Enan beyond imagining and he could see that Zhylaw, too, was impressed by her defiance. If only she would cease to fight him, maybe _he_ would cease this cruel game.

Enan was brought out of reverie by Zhylaw's laughter. "As difficult to break as you, Enan." Zhylaw's arm snaked out and Enan watched as he grabbed Anya by her hair and pulled her off her seat and onto his lap.

Anya gasped as Zhylaw roughly pulled her to him. His hand still in her hair, she worked hard to slow her breathing as the man's fingers ran along her jawline and across her lips.

"Beautiful, isn't she, Enan?" Zhylaw looked to his subordinate who seemed to be having a difficult time keeping his face blank. Zhylaw watched the Purifier quash the emotion in those typically cool blue eyes. He met the Purifier's eyes and held them, waiting to see how Enan would answer such a question.

Enan knew Zhylaw was expecting an answer but feared to admit anything before him. It could not be helped. "Yes, Lord, she is." Enan held his breath and tried to still the beast that roared within him as Zhylaw's hand moved to caress her thigh.

"We have similar tastes, you and I." Zhylaw returned his attention once again to Anya.

"Quite remarkable, she takes physical pain well, better than I would have thought." Zhylaw lifted his hand to trace the outline of her breast causing Anya's breath to hitch.

Enan watched her eyes close tightly against Zhylaw's caress.

"But she doesn't like being touched." Zhylaw leaned his head into Anya's neck and she shuddered at his closeness, "Don't worry my lovely, I won't touch you till you ask me to."

Zhylaw glanced briefly at Enan but continued whispering into the trembling woman's ear. "I think Enan is jealous, little one. He wants you. I can see it. Perhaps he would like spend the night with you."

Zhylaw turned cruel eyes on the man seated beside him. The smile he received made the Purifier's blood run cold. "What do you say Enan, do you want a taste?"

* * *

Author's Note:

I apologize in advance for the cliffhanger. I'll be out of town for the next week so you'll have to wait to find out what happens next. I know. I'm almost as evil as the Lord Marshal. By the way, if you're reading this story and haven't reviewed drop me a line so I know what you think. Thanks.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 19

Enan's heart sank. He sat frozen in his seat; his eyes locked on Zhylaw and the woman he held on his lap.

Zhylaw continued his verbal assault on the man before him. "You've been very helpful these many weeks. I should have offered before, Enan, please forgive my thoughtlessness."

If Zhylaw had had a recorder in his rooms he would have immortalized the look on the Purifier's face in a framed wall hanging. It was not exactly what most would consider dramatic, but Enan may as well have leapt from his seat and cried out in anguish before the Lord Marshal. Zhylaw had never before witnessed such an unguarded aspect on the man before him; shock, disgust and finally horror. Another man would have missed all three as they flashed across the Purifier's face but Zhylaw had been watching for them, waiting for them. No victory had ever been so sweet.

Enan didn't know what to do. He could refuse the offer, obviously, but if he did, how would Zhylaw respond? Enan realized he must have taken longer to respond than Zhylaw expected. He continued to taunt Enan.

"Of course, if you don't want her, Enan, I'm sure Irgun wouldn't mind another bite." Zhlaw said casually, grazing his teeth along Anya's jawbone.

Anya stiffened at Zhylaw's words and Enan could not bear the thought of that man touching her again. Enan knew in his heart, he was damned no matter what choice he made. "Thank you, my Lord, you are very generous." Enan choked out the words and he knew that Zhylaw had not missed the tension in his voice.

Anya closed her eyes as she listened to Enan's words. This could not be happening. But it was, she heard him, heard him thank Zhylaw. A cold numbness spread through Anya's mind and body and she released herself to it, seeking shelter once more within the confines of her mind.

Zhylaw stood, taking Anya with him. He pushed her towards the Purifier who caught her as she fell. "Good night, then." Zhylaw gave the Purifier an evil grin. He walked to the door and turned purposely back to his guests. The Purifier stood unsteadily with his arms wrapped around the tiny, crumbling woman. They looked perfect together. "I'll check on you both in the morning." He turned and exited the room.

Anya did not look at Enan or attempt to pull away. She breathed evenly in and out as Enan remembered his father had often done while meditating. She was hiding from him. He couldn't blame her. Enan lifted his arm to stroke her hair and kissed the top of her head. He lifted Anya off her feet and carried her to the sitting room. She didn't struggle in his arms.

Enan sat Anya down on the divan and began pacing the room. A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind. What was he going to do now? Zhylaw was no fool. He would check to be sure Enan spent the night here; he would make sure Enan was with her. The emotions that had been slowly drowning Enan's reason these past few weeks clouded his mind; he couldn't devise of a way out of this.

In Enan's distressed state he nearly tripped over the medical bag he'd left on the floor next to the end table. He stared at the bag for a long time before kneeling down and taking out a small syringe. Enan looked at the object in his hands with trepidation. He moved to the divan and sat at Anya's side. She sat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She kept her eyes downcast and seemed to be working hard at controlling her breathing.

Enan placed a gentle hand on Anya's back and she shuddered at the contact.

"Anya." Enan took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. He leaned his forehead against hers and could feel her uneven breaths on his face. For a brief moment their eyes met. Enan's heart was ripped from him at the silent plea he saw within their depths. He brought his left hand to her cheek and kissed her gently on the lips fighting to control his own roiling emotions. "Forgive me."

Anya saw sadness and compassion in the Purifier's eyes. His lips touched hers in a gentle, apologetic kiss. _Forgive me_. With those words came a sharp stab of pain. The last thing Anya saw before the drug took effect was a single tear trailing down the Purifier's cheek.

* * *

Enan made it all the way back to his rooms in time to vomit. He crouched over the refresher on his knees purging the dinner he had so painstakingly swallowed only hours earlier. If only he could expel the mire that now swamped his soul, so easily. His entire body shook with convulsive sobs. Enan could not stop the tears from falling nor put together the pieces of his heart that had broken piece by piece with each terrible moment of the last hour. _What have I done?_

Enan remembered the flash of pain in Anya's eyes before realization hit her and she felt the all too familiar effect of the gamekeeper's tranquilizer ease her to sleep. He saw the pain of his betrayal in her eyes before the lids closed upon them. Enan understood her dislike of the drug so he'd used it only when he deemed absolutely necessary, and at that moment he felt it necessary.

Enan wished to believe that he'd used the drug for her sake alone, but in his heart he knew that to be untrue. Enan was a coward. He could not bear to see her pain and he would not have her witness his betrayal.

She drifted off to sleep quickly. He laid her back gently on the divan and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She was thinner now, than the first time he'd looked upon her. She looked so beautiful in sleep. Her face held none of the hardness it possessed in her waking hours. What happened after that, Enan tried to push from his mind. His stomach, too, seemed to think that it had the power to rid him of the memory by ridding him of his dinner.

Enan tried to convince himself that he had no choice; that he had not truly hurt her. Still, guilt swamped his heart, for part of him desired to touch her from the moment he saw her. Zhylaw knew this, had read it in the gentle way Enan cared for her, and this was his punishment. It took great will for Enan to distance himself from the act. He made love to her. _Could he call it that?_ He tried not to touch her more than necessary though it seemed he'd long dreamed of doing so. She stirred not once beneath his touch.

A terrible black feeling began to burn within Enan. He was filling up with such hatred for the Lord Marshal and he knew not whether it could be contained. His stomach emptied, Enan collapsed onto the bathroom floor and wept as hard as the day his mother died.

Dame Zhylaw watched all of this from the shadows. She had asked Sesten for not only her husband's codes, but the Purifier's as well, in case she should need them. After fleeing her husband's quarters she walked the halls aimlessly. She had no one to speak with of this day's events, no one but the Purifier. And so, she snuck into his quarters to await his arrival. Selene was startled by the Enan's sudden entrance and his harried flight to his bedchamber. He didn't even see her sitting there in the parlor. Selene followed him into his bedchamber and heard him sicken in the bathroom. From the corner of his chamber she could see him perfectly and head him as he cried out his pain. _How many times before has he returned home like this? _When his stomach seemed to have calmed and he lie weeping on the bathroom floor, she approached.

Not knowing how Enan would react to a strange presence in his rooms, Selene moved slowly towards the bathroom, allowing him to hear her footsteps. She walked to the sink and poured him a glass of water. Kneeling down beside him, she rested her hand upon his back.

Enan heard someone moving in his bedchamber. It was Selene. She sat down beside him on the bathroom floor. Enan might have felt ashamed at the state she found him in, if he hadn't been too exhausted to care. He took the glass of water she offered and drank.

The silence between them was broken by the Lady's soft voice. "I understand now, Enan."

Enan looked up at the woman beside him and in a voice that only faintly resembled the regal speech of the Lord Purifier he whispered, "I can't save her."

Enan laid his head back down on the cold floor as tears began to flow anew. Dame Zhylaw rested her forehead on the back of his shoulder and comforted him until he passed into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter tortured me. I just couldn't write it. Now it's over and I can move on. 


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

Chapter 20

Zhylaw returned to his chambers early the next morning and found Anya sleeping on the sitting room sofa. Zhylaw never ceased to be captivated by her loveliness. In Zhylaw's presence, her features hardened. She was always on guard with him. Her face softened in sleep and she looked as she must have before the Necromongers came to Raynar I.

Zhylaw appraised her condition. Unlike her nights with Irgun, Anya appeared untouched. He sat down on the bed beside Anya and used a medpad to examine her. He was curious as to whether Enan had actually put his hands on her. Zhylaw knew the man wanted her, he was not blind, but the Lord Marshal had not _commanded_ Enan to take her. Still, he knew Enan was not deaf to his subtle threats. Both Enan and Anya had trembled at the sound of Irgun's name.

Irgun did his job well, and Anya's armor was beginning to crack under his continual ministrations. Zhylaw was quite impressed with the man's surprisingly subtle skill. The Lord Marshal had, when occasion called for it, allowed Irgun to _persuade_ key planetary leaders into doing Zhylaw's bidding. The man was quite talented in his use of terror and pain. Even so, Zhylaw was not sure, at first, if Irgun would be as successful with Anya. It seemed, though, that breaking people was truly Irgun's singular talent. Zhylaw knew it was only a matter of time before he would have Anya crawling on her knees before him.

The medical scan completed, Zhylaw looked through the readout with a smile on his lips. _Good boy, Enan, knew I would check her, didn't you?_ Zhylaw's smile faltered as his eyes caught something strange. The medpad picked up a foreign substance in her blood. Zhylaw cross referenced the compound in the medical database and found himself quite impressed with the Purifier's resourcefulness. Zhylaw returned his attention to Anya and ran his fingers across her cheek. She didn't stir. The drug in her system made her oblivious to the Lord Marshal's presence, and anyone else's. _Quite resourceful, aren't we, Enan._

He spoke to Anya's unconscious form, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. It felt like strands of silk to the touch. "So, he will take you, but not by force. We will see. Perhaps I will ask for a private performance." Zhylaw leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Anya's unresponsive lips. "Soon, you will be mine," he whispered into her ear before leaving to prepare for his was council.

* * *

Anya awoke alone in the sitting room. Her mind felt cloudy as it did each time she came out from under the tranquilizer. She tried to collect her thoughts. _Enan_. Anya remembered him carrying her to the sitting room, he kissed her, and then…the needle and everything went black. Anya could not stop the tears that began to cloud her vision. She ran her hands over her body trying desperately to remember what happened next but no memories existed. _Forgive me_. The tears that began silently swelled into sobs of despair. 

That is how Zhylaw found her.

The Lord Marshal left his war council, eagerly returning to his chambers. He found an enormous amount of pleasure in the thought of Anya's suffering and this time Zhylaw knew the damage would be greater than anything he or Irgun could inflict. He heard her soft cries as the door slid open.

Anya heard the door slide open; the Lord Marshal loomed in the doorway. She tried to reign in the tears and steady her breathing but the drug still coursing through her only made her emotions more difficult to control. Enan must have given her more than the usual dose. Zhylaw had already heard her, anyway. Anya kept her face turned into the cushion and readied herself for whatever Zhylaw had planned for the evening.

"Did you enjoy your evening with Enan?" Anya turned wet eyes on the Lord Marshal. Zhylaw watched Anya struggle for control. He was certain the drugs didn't help. Zhylaw leaned against the wall with his arms crossed marking her reactions. She did not answer, though her breathing seemed more controlled.

"No?" his lips curled cruelly, "I suppose, with the tranquilizer, you missed all of the fun."

Anya tried to lift herself to a seated position but Zhylaw was suddenly at her side and pushed her back down on the couch. He pulled her arms over her head and held them there. Anya's eyes became more focused at Zhylaw's sudden closeness and he noted the fear his actions sparked in them. He ran his right hand along her exposed arm down her side to rest on her hip. Her body trembled beneath the light brush of his fingertips.

"Harrowing, isn't it, not knowing what he touched." Anya's breathing hitched at his words. Zhylaw continued to taunt her, "Shall we see if he left any marks?" He moved his hand to her knees and taking the hem of her skirt began slowly pushing it up, exposing her thighs.

Anya lay still, suffering Zhylaw's exploration of her body.

"No bruises," he concluded after carefully inspecting her. "Of course you didn't have much of an opportunity to refuse him, did you?" He laughed softly, leaning closer to her face. Fresh tears fell from the corners of her eyes. "He wouldn't even give you that; the chance to refuse, to claw at him as he entered you. At least Irgun let you draw his blood."

Anya closed her eyes tightly against him but she could not block out the sound of his voice.

Zhylaw continued to verbally assault her. He watched as each phrase hit its mark, punctuated by the fall of yet another tear. "Did you think he would refuse a night with you? How could he resist a taste after all the times he's held and dressed you? I'm not entirely certain how he restrained himself this long."

Anya inhaled sharply at the Lord Marshal's words and he sensed her unease at his last statement. "Or perhaps he hasn't. Has he used this trick before, easing you to sleep with a needle? Did he tell you it was for your own welfare?"

A laugh escaped him as another tear ran down her cheek. "He did, didn't he? Too cowardly to put his hands on you while looking into your eyes. _Hmmm_. I wonder how many times he's laid with you without you even knowing."

Anya began to shake her head. It was not true. Enan would not do that to her. "No." The word came out weakly.

"You don't think so? Why, because he takes care of you? Every day he heals the damage, keeps you alive. Did it not occur to you that he could easily give you a larger dose than required, end your pain forever? But he doesn't, he brings you back. If there were not something in it for him, why would he do that?"

Anya could not answer that question. It brought her back to her first thoughts about the Purifier and the aide he gave her. _What would be the price of his assistance?_ Her thoughts were interrupted by the Lord Marshal's voice; his fingers brushed her lips.

"You are so very beautiful. I can't blame him for collecting such a payment."

With that the man released her wrists and Anya wrapped her arms tightly around her trembling form.

Zhylaw relished the defeat he read in her expression. Now for the hammer stroke that would break them both.

"I will punish him for you, little one. Next time, he won't be able to use such tricks. I'll make sure you get your chance to fight him. I'll watch him just to be sure."

With that the Lord Marshal strode from the room. He could not recall a more satisfying moment in his life, except, perhaps, the day Kryll died and he became the Lord Marshal.

* * *

Author's Note: 

WARNING: The next few chapters are going to be hell (for me to write and you to read). Bad things ahead. Get off the train now before it's too late. For those of you who decide to stick around, don't worry, we shall revisit the Zhylaw beat down before it's all over and this time it will be far more emotionally gratifying.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._  
**Warning:** If you've read this far you should know bad things are coming.

Chapter 21

Enan awoke the next morning in the comfort of his bed. Dame Zhylaw had somehow managed to rouse him from his stupor and coax him into leaving the cold stone floor for a more comfortable sleeping arrangement. She stayed until he fell into an uneasy sleep and then slipped out unseen.

He spent the next few days in a daze, throwing himself into his work. He was grateful for each hour that passed in which he was not called to Zhylaw's presence. The planning for the invasion of Rion was under way and it took every last Necromonger in the fleet to prepare for the invasion. The Purifier's senior staff voiced their concern over Enan's distractedness and he silently cursed his inability to maintain his composure during the hours he spent in their presence. Most people would not have noticed Enan's somewhat sour mood but his longtime lieutenants had seen the subtle changes in the Lord Purifier over the past several weeks and addressed their concerns to him privately. He assured them he would be fine and was merely having a difficult time sleeping of late which affected his waking hours. They each gave him helpful suggestions on ways to be more restful which he thanked them for in turn, before changing the conversation to another topic.

As hard as he tried, his thoughts would not leave Anya. He wished desperately to push her from his mind but he found it to be no easier than before. He knew he would have to face her again and Enan felt a tremendous amount of guilt for hoping the next time they met she would be unconscious.

It was days later that Enan received a call from the Lord Marshal's war room. He was just finishing up the final diagnostics of the conversion units when the call came through. He composed himself before answering the com. A lesser captain spoke on the other end declaring that the Lord Marshal wanted the Purifier to join him in his quarters in one hour.

Enan had somehow managed to avoid the Lord Marshal since _that night,_ as he had come to call it in his mind. It was no easy feat as the preparations for the invasion of Rion had commenced which normally entailed regular meetings between the Commanders, the Lord Marshal and the Purifiers. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he was called before Zhylaw; though he didn't know if the reunion would be work related or otherwise. The Lord Marshal's request for him to meet in Zhylaw's chambers precluded the chance of a simple business meeting.

The Purifier completed several more tasks before admitting to himself that it was time to face the devil. He turned to the supervisor of the second shift, handing him a datapad. "I am leaving for the night, please be sure that all of this is completed by morning." The younger man nodded his understanding and Enan departed.

The Purifier made his way to the private levels of the Necropolis, silently practicing calming techniques his father taught him as a child. They had been of little help to him over the past several weeks but he continued trying to minimize whatever tension he could before his confrontation with the Lord Marshal. It seemed mere moments before he reached his destination. Enan placed his hand on the access pad, took a deep calming breath, and composed his face as the doors slid open allowing him entry.

Enan could hear the Lord Marshal speaking in a rather serious manner to someone inside the room. He walked casually into the chamber and spotted the Lord Marshal and Captain Irgun seated at the dining table together. It took all his years of practiced indifference to reign in the surprise he felt at the sight of the second man. In the past, Enan had had few reasons to seek out Irgun's company and had never before met with him in such an informal setting. Enan was not expecting this.

The Purifier took in the sight of the dining room and the sitting room behind it. He dared not let his eyes move to Anya's door. He didn't wish the two warriors to see him searching for her. As far as he could tell, Anya was not in the room. Enan didn't know what to make of Irgun's presence but he knew there was no escaping Zhylaw's invitation now. He made his way to the table and bowed to the Lord Marshal and nodded politely to the Captain.

The Lord Marshal smiled broadly at the Purifier as he approached the dining table. "Purifier, how good of you to come! I know how busy you are with the preparations for the upcoming campaign, but I think we could all use a break from our labors."

Enan nodded his agreement. He chose his words carefully, "I am in need of some rest. We've been working non-stop for the last three days ensuring the conversion units are all up and running."

"Yes, yes… We may need quite a few replacements this time around. Rion has many settlements and is _supposed_ to be well defended."

He turned an amused expression on Irgun, "We've heard that before, though, haven't we Captain? The Raynar system was supposed to be well defended, too, but we took care of them easily enough."

The Lord Marshal paused briefly and chuckled, looking back and forth between the two men before him, "Of course, not all of them were so easy to conquer." He gave Enan a knowing smile. "But it is only a matter of time."

Zhylaw waved the Purifier to the seat at his right, "Come Purifier, sit and eat, the cooking staff has truly outdone themselves tonight."

Enan bowed and moved to join the men at the table. He took his time filling his plate. The silence was beginning to grate on his nerves. Irgun had not said a word. He merely sat across from Enan watching him and periodically lifting his fork to his mouth, seemingly disinterested in the quality of their meal.

Enan felt the need to make an attempt at banal conversation. The longer he could keep from finding out why he had been called to dinner with Irgun the better. He poured a glass of wine for himself and lifted the glass to his lips before speaking. "How is the assembly of the new ground troops coming? Ready for deployment I presume."

"They will be soon, once Irgun gives them a once over." Zhylaw turned his attention to the man on his left. "How is that going by the way? I know breaking in the new recruits is your favorite duty."

"It was." The words were spoken to no one in particular but they ripped through Enan like a knife. He met the warrior's mirthful eyes-a terrifying sight coming from the large man.

"Ah yes, how could I forget?" Zhylaw replied with a smirk. "I suppose the new task I have appointed you would be a bit more _pleasurable_."

Zhylaw turned on Enan, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Speaking of, I was just telling Irgun of your night with Anya."

Enan's stomach clenched at the Lord Marshal's words. He had hoped to at least finish his meal before this moment, but conceded it might be better for his stomach if it remained empty.

Zhylaw continued, "We are both quite impressed with you, Purifier. We had no idea you could be so cruel."

Enan was taken aback by the Lord Marshal's statement. He didn't quite know what Zhylaw meant by calling him 'cruel'. He was saved from asking for an explanation by Zhylaw's continued monologue.

"Irgun, himself quite a student of cruelty, had not even considered such a thing. Perhaps that is why I like to have you around, Enan, you're always so full of surprises."

Irgun smiled evilly at the Purifier, raising his glass in a silent toast. The quiet man seemed to ponder Enan for a long moment before speaking. "I am curious as to where you found animal tranquilizers on such short notice." Pausing briefly to meet Enan's gaze, he added "Then again, the Lord Purifier has often appeared ready for anything. If Commander Teaor had known this, perhaps he would have thought twice before challenging you."

The Purifier eyed the large warrior uneasily. He didn't trust the hulking man as far as he could drop kick him, but was at the moment far more concerned with the fact that Zhylaw had discovered his use of the sedative on Anya. It also unnerved him that Zhylaw chose to call his act cruel instead of the act of cowardice it was. Each moment that passed the Purifier could feel the cold grip of fear clenching tighter around his heart, though he was not certain for whom he was afraid.

"I've had a little chat with our darling Anya. She was quite upset with you the other night, putting her out like that. You didn't even give her the opportunity to try and claw your eyes out."

Enan kept his expression impassive and prayed to every God he had ever heard named that the Lord Marshal would not ask him to explain, for there was no lie he could tell that would justify his actions.

"After witnessing your impressive performance in hand to hand combat with Commander Teaor I am quite certain that losing an eye or some other beloved part of your anatomy was not the motive. I can only conclude that you must have wished to humiliate her by using her without the chance of escape or the memory of what was done."

Zhylaw's eyes drifted to Anya's door, "I am certain she has thought of nothing else these past few days but what you might have done to her; imagining that you perhaps even healed her injuries before you departed. Such torment…as I said before, Enan, very cruel."

Zhylaw was quite certain Anya had thought of nothing else as he had spent the past few days reminding her of such things, himself. The pain his words had brought to her eyes had made him forgo any physical abuses he may have had planned for the proceeding days. There were some methods of torture more painful than broken bones.

The Lord Marshal's face became quite serious as it always did when he reprimanded his subordinates. "You know I am always proud of men who take initiative, but in this instance I did not authorize you to drug my pet and I have told Anya that I would rectify the situation."

Enan nodded slowly. He tried to keep his voice steady but was not certain he would succeed. "I understand. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds." He paused, "And how shall the situation be amended?"

"I have told Anya that she would get her chance to claw your eyes out or, at least, her chance to try."

Enan's heart drummed loudly in his chest, he had not missed the decree in those words. Zhylaw was commanding him to rape her again but this time with no tranquilizer. At once he was grateful he had swallowed only two mouthfuls of his meal.

Zhylaw watched closely for Enan's reaction to his words. To his credit, the Purifier seemed a bit more controlled this eve than on his previous visit. This time it would seem that the Purifier _was _prepared for anything. _We'll just have to see about that._ "I also told her that I would watch you just to make sure."

Enan's head snapped to the Lord Marshal and he watched as Zhylaw lifted his glass to his lips, his eyes daring the Purifier to speak. Enan didn't know what to say. He had barely been able to fulfill Zhylaw's command with Anya lying passively beneath him. He didn't think he could force her, he knew he _could not_, not with Zhylaw watching.

Zhylaw broke the staring contest between them. He was unable to control his joy at watching the Purifier squirm. "I invited Irgun for the occasion." He stated, his gaze moving to the warrior at his side, "He has grown quite possessive of Anya these past few weeks. I think he is hoping I will give her over to him when I grow tired of her. I don't think he likes the idea that someone else might break her before he does."

Enan looked at the warrior sitting across from him. His eyes held a silent challenge that made Enan's blood turn cold. _He would give Anya to this man, this monster? _

Zhylaw spoke to Irgun, "Shall we see if Anya is awake? Why don't you go and collect her?"

The large man stood and Enan could hear his heavily booted footfalls measuring out the seconds he had to save himself from this nightmare. He took another sip of his wine to calm his nerves. Moments later the doors to Anya's room slid open and Irgun emerged his hand locked around Anya's upper arm. He pulled her along with him to the table. She seemed not to be resisting him. He handed her off to Zhylaw who pulled her down onto his lap. She did not look at Enan.

Anya wakened as Irgun entered her rooms. For a moment she held her breath, not knowing for what purpose he had come. He looked down at her and brushed the fingers of his right hand along the side of her face causing her to cringe. "You are wanted at dinner," he stated simply before pulling her up by her left arm and dragging her towards the door.

The door opened and Anya immediately spotted _him_ seated at the table beside the Lord Marshal. She made no effort to meet his eyes as Irgun led her across the room. Zhylaw pulled her down onto his lap. This was the most company Anya had had since her _previous life_ as she'd begun to think of the time before the Necromonger invasion and yet the presence of these three men in the same room made her entire being tremble with fear.

Zhylaw leaned into Anya's neck, speaking into her ear. "I told you I always keep my word. Enan has apologized to me for his unacceptable behavior. I told him that you would have your chance to curse him. After all, without that, you have nothing, do you?" He grazed her cheek with his lips before turning his attention back to Enan.

"I know I promised you a break from duties but I'm sure you'll find this particular task agreeable."

Zhylaw stood then, taking Anya with him and pulling her towards his bedchamber. This time Enan saw her resist but her strength was not nearly enough to break Zhylaw's hold on her, nor impede his movement towards the door. The doors slid open and Zhylaw turned back to the two men still seated at the dining table. "Come," was all he said before exiting the room.

Enan stood and numbly made his way to the doorway. He could feel Irgun behind him. The warrior was there, no doubt, to prevent the Purifier from escaping. The door opened as they reached the vestibule. Zhylaw stood next to the bed; Anya facing away, wrapped in his arms. His head was bowed and he seemed to whisper something into her ear. One could mistake the sight to be a stolen moment between two lovers. Zhylaw's left hand bound her possessively against him while his right danced lightly along her hipbone and down onto her thigh; only the stiff posture of the woman spoke of the one sided nature of their embrace.

Anya was being dragged to the bedchamber and although she put all her strength into slowing his movement the Lord Marshal seemed not at all concerned with her silent protest. Upon entering he wrapped his arms around her and she could feel his enjoyment of the past few minutes pressed into her lower back.

Anya felt his hot breath on her neck as he whispered, "Shall we see what Enan does now? I don't think he likes the idea of performing for an audience. What shall I do if he refuses? I promised you the chance to resist. I cannot go back on my word." His head lifted from her with the sound of the door opening once more.

Zhylaw smiled at Enan, pulling his attention away from Anya for a moment. "Well, Enan, what do you say?"

"I…" For the first time in his life, the Purifier was speechless. He could do nothing at this moment but admit defeat. He couldn't do what Zhylaw commanded. He was not concerned about what Zhylaw would do to him upon his refusal for he knew it was not him who would pay for his inability to comply. That is why Irgun was here. _He knew I could not do this._

"What is wrong, Enan? You had no problem the other night." Zhylaw smirked at the Purifier who looked now quite like a cornered animal.

"I cannot." The words came quietly out of Enan's mouth.

"You cannot? Why might that be?" Zhylaw released Anya and walked toward where Enan stood near the door. He glanced down below Enan's belt with a smirk. "I know everything works. If it didn't you would not have left your mark on her the other night."

Under different circumstances, Enan might have been disgusted by Zhylaw's lewd remarks but they passed unheeded as he struggled to keep his eyes level with the Lord Marshal's. "I cannot…with you watching." He looked pointedly at Zhylaw and also turned his head in Irgun's direction.

"Ah, I see. You don't like performing for audiences. Then we have a problem, don't we?" Zhylaw plastered a fake, pensive expression on his face his eyes looking to the ceiling seemingly for a solution to this unforeseen dilemma.

"In most things I would trust you, Enan, but you have already proved that I cannot in this instance. I cannot leave you alone with her again. It would not be fair. And of course, I promised Anya her chance to tear at someone."

He turned away from Enan and walked back to where Anya was standing. She had not moved from the spot where Zhylaw left her. He took her chin in his hand and lifted it so her eyes met his. Enan could see the muscles of her jaw clench tightly in anger but the rest of her shook slightly with fear.

He spoke to Enan but kept his eyes on Anya. "Well then, since you will not let us watch I fear the only way to settle this is for Irgun to take your place. Irgun likes audiences, isn't that so?" He turned now to the Captain who had been leaning against the wall behind the Purifier and then turned to address Enan, "And at least with him I know Anya will not be treated with such disrespect."

The Lord Marshal spoke now to Irgun, "Would you care to give us a performance this evening? It might help Enan overcome his shyness."

Enan's blood froze in his veins at the sound of Irgun's assent.

"If you wish."

Irgun had been alternately enjoying and despising his time with the Lord Marshal and the Lord Purifier. He watched most of their verbal sparring in silence, trying to understand the hidden meanings behind their words. Subtlety was not exactly Irgun's strong point but it was entirely clear to him that Enan had not drugged the girl out of cruelty and further, it was obvious that Zhylaw was well aware of that fact, too. Irgun was at first confused that the Lord Marshal had not simply called Enan out and ordered him to explain himself. But as the conversation began to unfold Zhylaw announced his intended punishment for Enan, although Irgun thought it not much of a punishment at all. Irgun was actually quite annoyed at the thought of anyone else touching _his_ girl, aside from Zhylaw, that is.

What made him even more frustrated was that Zhylaw had not informed him as to why he was here. Irgun followed commands unwaveringly and arrived precisely when Zhylaw had commanded, but beyond that, he had no idea why the Lord Marshal had requested his presence. He didn't like sitting here without any knowledge of what was expected of him and he really had no desire to _watch_ the Purifier use _his _playmate.

It was when the Purifier said he could not take her that Irgun's foul mood began to dissipate. He watched the interaction between the two men before him and something occurred to Irgun that had not, before, entered his mind. _The Purifier did not wish to hurt her._ His refusal was not a simple _inability_ to perform before a crowd, but an inability to cause her pain. The concept was a bit outside of Irgun's realm of comprehension. It was true that Irgun had been developing something of an attachment for her that went beyond his desire to break her spirit. He enjoyed Anya's pained cries and her tiny hands futilely pushing him away. But he also liked the feel of her wrapped in his arms, the taste of her skin and the beating of her heart as she lay asleep (or unconscious) against him.

A small smile spread across Irgun's face when Zhylaw presented the solution to the Purifier's problem. At least now Irgun knew what he was expected to do and he felt a surge of pleasure in the knowledge that Zhylaw would force Enan to watch. _I will show you, Purifier, who she belongs to._

Irgun strode across the room toward Anya and grabbed her as he had earlier. This time she jerked away instinctively and Irgun struck her hard across the face with his free hand causing her to crumple to the floor. Irgun thought he heard Enan draw in a sharp breath. He smiled more broadly as he lifted Anya this time by both arms crushing her mouth with his lips and tossing her roughly on the bed.

Enan could not contain his gasp as Irgun struck Anya. Only the warrior's grip on her arm stopped her from hitting the ground. Enan wanted to run from the room to escape the sight before him but the Lord Marshal blocked his path, standing in the doorway. For some terrible reason, even had the doorway been clear, Enan did not have the strength to move from where he stood. His eyes, too, stayed locked in horror at the man who now tore at the thin silk fabric covering Anya's body.

Irgun managed to remove his own shirt and made light work of the delicate dress Anya wore. This was one of the most enjoyable parts for him, unwrapping the present. He had destroyed so many beautiful dresses to get at her flesh and tearing the covering from her body only heightened his arousal. Irgun did not bother restraining Anya's arms. The Lord Marshal said he wished her to fight and so he allowed her arms freedom. She always fought him at this point in the game. Each scratch made him hungrier for her. _Let the Purifier see her nails sink into my back as I sink into her. _

He took her face in his hands holding her so she could not turn away, crushing her jaw to keep her mouth open. She fought him in this even more; her hands pulling at his fingers trying to keep him out. Irgun had learned the thing she most hated over the past few weeks and to his surprise this was it. During their first few encounters she would forever turn her face away and keep her jaw tightly shut denying him entry. He had not cared much then, until he realized the power he took from her when he forced her mouth open to him. The first night she had fought his grip so hard he dislocated her jaw. It was easier now to win her compliance- that is how he knew he would ultimately win this battle of wills.

Irgun could wait no longer and pulling her body down he entered her. He did not muffle her cries with his mouth as he often did when they were alone. _Let the Purifier hear her!_ He had never enjoyed her so much as now, knowing that this man watched him. He shuddered hard against her and collapsed, breathing heavily into her neck. A smile danced across his lips. _Who does she belong to now, Purifier?_

Enan watched the entire performance as if it were a dream, a nightmare that he could not wake from. He could not move but he knew that even if he could there was nothing he could do. He could not take both of these men down. He knew the sound of Anya's cries would haunt him forever. And he knew he needed to do something soon or he would never be able to sleep again.

Anya fought the large warrior once more trying to escape the inevitable. While her mind now warned her of the pain to come if she did not comply, instinct screamed at her to resist. A part of her knew that this was what this man wanted, what they all wanted but she could not bring herself to lie still while his hands moved across her body. She kept her eyes closed knowing with some measure of certainty that Enan and Zhylaw watched from a few feet away. She wished she had the strength to rip their filthy eyes out of their sockets. A sudden pain brought her attention back to the man on top of her. It was almost over now. _Please God just let this end._

Irgun kissed Anya almost tenderly before climbing off of her and pulled on his discarded shirt. The large man then pointed at the wall chrono drawing both Zhylaw's and for the first time, Enan's eyes away from Anya.

"Yes, of course, the Commanders are waiting for our arrival." Zhylaw turned his attention back to the Purifier. "If you'll excuse us, Enan, Irgun and I have a meeting to attend. I hope this evening has been, _instructive_ for you."

He turned to leave but before the doors closed on him he called back to Enan, "Oh, and if you wouldn't mind straightening up…?" The door shut on the two men removing them from Enan's sight. They had gone without so much as a glance at the small woman curled up on the bed.

Enan couldn't breathe and he stood frozen to the spot for what seemed like an eternity. Anya lay curled up in the corner of the bed. Her soft cries muffled by the blanket she'd turned her face down into. Willing his body into action, Enan took two tentative steps toward her. He lifted a light blanket folded at the foot of the bed and laid it gently over her. The pain he'd managed to suppress spilled forth in a shower of tears he could no longer withhold. Enan climbed onto the bed behind Anya and carefully pulled her into his arms, rocking her as Dame Zhylaw had done for him days earlier. She tried to pull away but he held her fast. He held her while she poured out her grief onto the soft linens. A long time later he finally found his voice.

"I couldn't," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry." Enan closed his eyes but all he could see was Irgun violating Anya, and the Lord Marshal standing there, smiling.


	22. Chapter 22

_A short chapter for vintena. _

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._

Chapter 22

Anya's tears had ceased and she lay in Enan's arms, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Enan brushed the hair behind her ear.

"Anya…" he spoke tentatively, not knowing where to begin. "I…I can help you to the shower."

She did not answer but made to sit up, clutching the thin blanket against her. Enan guided her gently to a seated position and stood himself. Anya attempted to stand on her own but Enan was forced to catch her as her legs gave out. He wrapped his right arm around her and the two walked in silence to the door; Anya did not walk so much as Enan carried her. When they reached the bathroom Enan sat her down on the stone bench.

He left the room to collect the bag of medical supplies locked in one of the storage compartments in Zhylaw's sitting room. He opened it and was not surprised to find his supply of tranquilizers missing. He returned and administered the injection that would once again heal her injuries.

Enan was worried about Anya's unresponsiveness. He moved to program the sonic shower then returned to Anya's side. "Do you think you will need my help?"

She did not answer.

Enan sighed. He reached out slowly to take hold of Anya's arm. A small cry escaped her lips as he unintentionally clasped her bruised arm.

"I'm sorry."

Enan quickly slid his hand higher on her arm in an attempt to avoid causing her more pain. He helped her once more to her feet and to the shower. Anya gripped the wall handles for support while Enan initiated the shower sequence. He returned to support her and caught the edge of the blanket as it began to slide off of her right shoulder. He held her around the waist through the blanket, careful not to make contact with her skin. It was difficult for Enan to keep his eyes off of her exposed flesh. He could see the bruises on her arms where Irgun's hand had clamped down on them as well as numerous bruises on her face and neck; ugly reminders of the past hour's events. Thanks to the nanos they would soon fade, but their memory would forever be burned into Enan's memory.

The cycle finished and the two made their way out of the shower stall. Anya clutched the blanket around her body as Enan led her through the Lord Marshal's bedchamber and past the dining table towards her room.

Enan guided Anya to the couch. She had not said a word to him yet and he wanted so desperately to hear her voice. He moved to the closet which he'd wisely stocked with clothing. He pulled a dress off the rack and returned to Anya's side. She did not turn to look at him.

"Anya," he hesitated, "I'm going to dress you now." He rolled the dress up and lowered it over her head as he had done many times before. This time he received no assistance from his patient. He pulled her arms through the sleeves and fastened the backing closed. He slid the dress down over her torso pulling the blanket away as he went. It was like dressing a corpse. He could not bear the silence between them any longer.

"Please say something to me."

Silence.

"Anya." He sank to his knees in front of her. Her eyes remained distant and unfocused. "Anything Anya, scream at me, strike me, please."

The desperation in his voice caused Anya to close her eyes. _I cannot look at him._ Anya was not certain what it was that kept her eyes closed; anger, fear, or shame. She flinched instinctively as hands came up to clasp her face. She could feel Enan's forehead pressed against hers but refused to open her eyes.

"I had to. I know you hate the drugs but… I didn't want to hurt you. I couldn't hurt you. You must believe me." His hands moved to clasp hers and he brought them to his lips. "Please forgive me."

She could feel his tears moistening her hands and tried to pull them away. She didn't want to pity him. She didn't want to hear his pleas for forgiveness. Not now. He has no right to ask forgiveness. Not after what he'd done to her.

"Release me." Her words were quiet but forceful. Enan withdrew his hands but he did not move from his place on the floor before her.

In spite of her harsh words, Enan's heart lifted at the sound of her voice. They gave him hope that she might at last speak to him.

"I'm sorry I can't save you from all of this. _I don't know what to do_." He choked out, despairingly.

Anya listened to his words silently. As hard as she tried, she could not hate the man on his knees in front of her. Part of her wished she could hate him, wished she could direct all of her rage at him, strike him, hurt him as she'd been hurt these many weeks. But she could not forget. She could not forget his kindness, his gentle hands healing her wounds, comforting her.

Enan bowed his head in defeat, fresh tears staining his cheeks. He was startled when he felt gentle fingers brush away his tears. He raised his face to meet Anya's. They stayed that way, staring into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity before the silence was broken by two softly spoken words.

"Kill me."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies._  
**Warning**: Here it comes.

Chapter 23

The Lord Marshal returned to his chambers hours later. The war council meeting ran far too long as far as he was concerned. Normally he found immense pleasure in planning his campaigns, but this time he had other things on his mind. He drank a glass of brandy before heading to the sitting room.

The doors slid open as he reached the door. The lights were turned down but he had no trouble spotting Anya on the couch with his enhanced vision. He called up the lights. Anya lay curled up on the couch. She did not stir as he approached. He stood over her, watching her sleep.

A small sigh escaped her lips. He loved her like this. She always looked so peaceful the moment before he woke her.

Zhylaw sat beside her on the sofa. The sinking of the cushions roused Anya and she opened her eyes.

"Together again." Zhylaw reached out and gently caressed her face. Anya didn't bother pulling away. She simply closed her eyes and turned her face back into the cushion.

Zhylaw ran gentle fingers over her bare arms. "I see Enan has taken care of Irgun's handiwork."

He smiled thoughtfully down at her. "Do you think he learned a thing or two from Irgun tonight?" He began playing absentmindedly with a lock of her hair, "You know I've waited a long time to find some way to break the Purifier, to ensure he knows his place. You have been exceptional in that capacity. I do believe he is about to go right over the edge. I couldn't have succeeded in this without you."

He leaned down to her ear, whispering; "Soon I'll be able to focus all of my attention on you, little one. I am looking forward to that." Grasping her by her arm, he pulled her onto her back. He ran his fingers across her lips studying every detail of her features. Her eyes burned with anger, even after all this time. It excited him so.

He couldn't take his eyes off her lips. He wanted to taste them. He'd never kissed her when she was conscious. He found he could not restrain himself any longer. Zhylaw'd watched for far too long. It was time for him to take what was his. He kissed her hungrily on the mouth running his hands over her body.

Anya was tired of hearing the Lord Marshal speak. Every word the man spoke was meant to hurt her and she refused to listen anymore. Something flashed in the Lord Marshal's eyes before his mouth came down on hers. Zhylaw'd never kissed her like this before. A flash of panic hit her. She dragged her nails down the side of his face in an attempt to dislodge him.

Zhylaw felt Anya's nails sink into his cheek. He grabbed her wrists in a crushing hold. He lifted his head, looking down on her, smiling. "That wasn't very nice." He said, breathing heavily. He studied her face. She was afraid. It was in her eyes. "You know it doesn't hurt. You can't hurt me. But you, little one, I can hurt you." He crushed her wrists to emphasize his words.

Anya tried to hide her fear and the pain she felt as he crushed her bones. She did not quite succeed.

Zhylaw met Anya's eyes, his expression serious. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

Anya was suspicious of Zhylaw's statement. It showed in her eyes.

"You don't believe me?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"No." Anya's voice was flat.

"What is it you think I want?" He turned his head quizzically.

"I don't know." Anya replied anger and suspicion in her voice.

"Don't you?" A sly smile appeared on his face.

Silence.

"You…I want you." Zhylaw thought back on the last several weeks. The realization of why he'd brought her on board, why he'd brought her to his rooms had been difficult for him to accept. He'd thought it weakness at first. He gradually came to see it as his right, as fate that he should find her on that planet, and that she should be his. She would understand. He would make her understand. "Ask me to take away your pain. I will do it."

Anya's anger rose and she spit her words at him. "And for such a favor, what do you want in return?"

He spoke the words that his soul had longed to voice. "I want you to be mine, till Underverse come, and beyond." He released her wrists and ran his hands down her arms, "I want you to ask me for it. Ask me to make love to you."

Anya hissed. The very idea made her sick. She would never ask this man to touch her. He was out of his mind to think it. She shook her head. "No."

"No." Zhylaw's eyes became deadly. "I think you'll change your mind before the night is over." Zhylaw drew an elegantly crafted dagger from his boot and placed the tip beneath her chin. Anya's breath caught at the feel of the sharp blade against her throat.

He kissed her possessively then, before lifting her off the couch, the knife pressed into her side. Anya used every ounce of strength she possessed to break his grip on her as he carried her to his bedchamber, but she did not succeed.

* * *

Enan was summoned to the Lord Marshal's chamber early the next morning. He'd been awake all night thinking of Anya's words to him. It had not been the first time she'd asked him to end her life but it was the first time his determination to keep her alive wavered. It was only for a moment, and then he once again refused her request. He could not bring himself to kill her. It didn't matter that she begged him. He simply didn't think he could live with her blood on his hands and a part of him still clung to the possibility of a happy ending to this nightmare. Even so, he made his way to the public galleries in an attempt to resupply himself with tranquilizers. A large enough dose and Anya could die peacefully in her sleep. Enan might even join her. 

He was not surprised to find that the medicinal supplies for the gallery had been relocated to a secured location, nor was he surprised that his security codes were blocked from accessing them. Admitting defeat for the time being, he left the gallery level and walked hurriedly to the Lord Marshal's suite, he was already late.

Minutes later the Purifier arrived at the Lord Marshal's door. He pressed his hand against the access pad and stepped into the foyer. There was no sign of Anya or the Lord Marshal in the main room. He checked Anya's room but again was met with disappointment. She was not there. Enan took a deep breath before turning on his heels and heading for the only place left that Anya could be. The doors to the Lord Marshal's bedchamber slid apart and Enan slowly entered the dimly lit room. Before he could call up the lights, a voice did so for him.

"Lights up."

Enan would have spun around at the sound of the Lord Marshal's voice if it were not for the terrible sight that greeted him when the room brightened. He could not suppress the horror he felt at the sight of Anya, lying there like a broken doll. It was not just the usual collection of bruises and broken bones that held his attention. An intricate series of cuts covered her entire body as if her skin had been used as a canvass.

"I believe I've finally shattered that indifferent façade of yours, Purifier."

Enan rounded on the man whose voice came from some distance behind him. Deadly blue eyes met calm hazel ones. Zhylaw sat in a large armchair tucked in the far corner of his room. He was covered in blood, Anya's blood, and dressed in nothing more than a light pair of sleeping pants.

"She said I would never be able to make her beg. She was wrong." He looked down at his hands and Enan saw the gilded dagger he always carried at his side. It, too, was covered in blood. He rolled the blade in his hands the tip pressed into his left pointer finger. "I told her it was either me or the blade." He paused, staring at the dagger in his hand, "For a moment I thought she might choose the blade," he paused, "but no, she chose me. I made her beg me for it."

He looked then at the Purifier who stood frozen in place. "Angry? I don't think I've ever seen you angry before, Purifier." Zhylaw stood and walked casually towards Enan, stopping a foot away from him.

Zhylaw looked down to find his companion holding a similarly decorated blade. The sight of it brought a genuine smile to his lips. "What are you going to do with that, Enan? Are you going to kill me?"

Enan did not remember pulling his dagger. It had been a reflex at the sight of Zhylaw's drawn blade.

"Well, are you going to _use_ that blade?" Zhylaw took one step closer to Enan, his eyes daring the Purifier to make the first move.

Enan did not move.

"No. I didn't think so." His voice dripped venomously. "You're _pathetic_. You won't even fight for her. Irgun would." He leaned in inches from the Purifier's face. "She will go to _him_ when I'm through with her and you will spend the rest of your life cleaning up the mess."

Something deep within the Purifier snapped in that instant.

Zhylaw blocked Enan's blow and countered with his own. The Lord Marshal was surprised by the ferocity of Enan's assault. When the Purifier fought Teaor, it had been Teaor who'd shown the greater aggression. Enan had been in complete control of his emotions during their battle. The man before him now fought like a rabid hellhound.

Zhylaw thoroughly enjoyed dancing with the Purifier. Enan was good. In fact, if Zhylaw had not possessed the power of the holy half-dead, the Purifier may have had the skill to defeat him. Fortunately, the Lord Marshal's speed and strength far exceeded his opponent's. He let the man unleash his anger, waiting for Enan to wear himself down. Zhylaw landed one blow after another while evading Enan's counterattacks. Gradually, Enan's strength began to wane and the Lord Marshal decided he'd had enough of toying with the Purifier. It was time to end this. He landed two blows on Enan's face, and grabbing the Purifier's arm, threw him across the room into the end table.

Enan fought as hard as he had for anything in his life, but all his years of training were not enough. He could not land a blow on the other man. Zhylaw's astral form would spirit him out of harm's way directly to a position where Enan was vulnerable. It was like fighting a ghost and he was growing tired. Enan made a fatal mistake and took two blows to the head and then felt his body careening through the air and his back slamming into a table. The blow knocked the air out of his lungs and he fought to catch his breath. Blood dripped down his face and his head throbbed painfully. He fought to keep his eyes and mind focused.

The Lord Marshal stood across the room, watching Enan attempt to shake off his last blows. "Did you think you could win?" A humorless laugh burst forth from the Lord Marshal, "You cannot defeat me! You are _nothing_, just a weak underling."

Enan met the Lord Marshal's gaze. His face was impassive. The fury Zhylaw raised in him was diminished now, though it lurked deep within his soul.

"You can't defeat me." A pause, "_say it!_"

The Lord Marshal's voice echoed eerily in the high ceiling. Enan closed his eyes. He was certain now in the knowledge that he could not kill Zhylaw. He could not save her from him. The words slipped from his lips. Their harsh reality was undeniable.

"I can't defeat you."

Enan drew on every last ounce of strength he possessed. He lifted himself from the floor leaning heavily on his right leg, dagger in hand. He met Zhylaw's gaze evenly, a strange sense of calm sweeping over him. In that moment Enan executed a move that the Lord Marshal had not been prepared for. He spun around, driving his dagger through the air.

It took Zhylaw a fraction of a second to realize that Enan's blow was not meant for him. He moved to stop the knife from hitting its mark but this time his astral self was not fast enough. He threw the Purifier across the room sending him crashing into the bureau. Zhylaw stood over Anya's body watching as she drew a shuddering breath, the knife still embedded in her chest. He could see her spirit beginning to break free from her body, but he could do nothing to stop it.

It took the Lord Marshal a moment before the words came out, low and solemn. "Do you think you've won, Enan?" He turned to the man still sprawled on the floor.

Enan did not hear the Lord Marshal's words. He was overcome by the horror of what he'd just done. He could not take his eyes from Anya's form; from the knife sticking grossly out of her chest, nor could he restrain his tears. He didn't care if Zhylaw was witness to them.

Enan's tears were not for his act alone; he mourned the fact that he would not be reunited with her in the afterlife. The Purifier had lost faith in many things, but of one thing he was certain, his polluted soul would not dwell with her pure spirit in the life that was to come. A strange sense of peace washed over him then_. It will all be over soon._ He was certain Zhylaw would see to that and Enan would finally be punished for his hand in Anya's suffering. The Lord Marshal's words broke into Enan's thoughts.

"Perhaps you've saved us both from her." Zhylaw, too, had not yet taken his eyes off of the woman dying on his bed. He had finally found a creature worthy of him. He would never have given her to Irgun. Not when she was finally utterly and completely his. _And Enan took her from him_.

The Lord Marshal turned from her then and walked to Enan's side, blade in hand. He loomed over the Purifier who as of yet hadn't moved from where he landed against the chest of draws.

Enan turned his attention to Zhylaw who now loomed over him. He made no effort to protect himself from the Lord Marshal's death blow. His only thought in that moment was that, unlike Anya, his death would be painless.

"Do you think you did the right thing?" Zhylaw asked the man sprawled on his bedroom floor.

Enan's soul froze with the intensity of Zhylaw's icy glare. There was no mask remaining for him to hide behind. Everything the Purifier felt in the deepest parts of his soul was laid bare before this half dead monster.

It was all the Lord Marshal had dreamed of and more. He saw the emptiness in the man's haunted eyes, the despair. Those eyes begged for death. The Lord Marshal's lips curled into a wholly unpleasant smile at the sight of the Purifier's misery. "Don't worry, Enan, you'll have the rest of your life to think on it."

Enan looked up, shock written plainly across his face. _He would live. He could _**not**_ live_.

"And just in case you're thinking of taking your own life…I will make certain that if you do, any and every Necromonger that has ever shown you favor will join you shortly thereafter."

The Lord Marshal gave Enan a pointed look before turning his back on him and heading for the door. He paused at the threshold, taking one last look at the only person that had ever truly held any power over him.

"Clean up the mess you made before you leave."

Zhylaw vanished, leaving Enan alone with Anya. He crawled to the edge of the bed and pulled himself up to sit beside her. His blow had been poorly aimed. It was a slow death. Enan took her hand in his. Her breathing was uneven and labored. She did not open her eyes or speak but he felt her give his hand a small squeeze as the last few remaining threads of life began dissolving away. Enan pulled her into his arms, then, his hands quickly becoming slick with her blood. He rested his head on hers and rocked her like a child drifting off to sleep.

He willed his voice to steadiness, speaking softly. "They can't hurt you now…not ever again."

Enan fought back the urge to cry out to her, to beg her forgiveness, to speak words that didn't matter anymore. He would not have her pass to the sound of his pained cries. Enan's tears soaked Anya's dark hair as her blood seeped into his robes. The hold she had on his hand relaxed as the minutes ticked by. The sound of her labored breathing quieted. When her lungs finally ceased their wasted struggle, a strangled cry erupted from deep within Enan's soul. Part of his soul died with her, lost to him forever. Enan lifted her face to his and placed a gentle kiss on her blood stained lips before allowing himself to weep for the only woman he'd ever loved.

* * *

Author's note: 

I'm sorry there isn't a happy ending to Anya's story but I still have two more chapters in the works. Don't go anywhere.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies (OR and DC). That includes most of the dialogue in this chapter._

Chapter 24

3 years later

The Purifier strode across the senate room floor and turned to face the crowd. The leaders and dignitaries of Helion Prime stood fearfully, surrounded by Necromonger warriors. Enan gave the same basic speech as always, throwing in a few minor changes to keep himself from falling asleep.

Zhylaw interrupted his speech to address the assembly. "Look around you. Every Necromonger in this hall, every one of the legion vast that swept aside your defenses was once like you, fought as feebly as you, every Necromonger that lives today is a convert."

A cacophony of voices could be heard shouting or whispering. _Converts? What does that mean?_ _There will be no conversions!_

Enan tried to regain control over the agitated crowd. The Lord Marshal always chose to interrupt his carefully orchestrated speeches when they conquered _difficult_ planets; peoples who were less likely to see the wisdom of choosing the Necromonger Way. It seemed to have the desired effect of forcing the Purifier to work harder to win over the crowd. _If he'd just keep his mouth shut I'd be done by now._

"We all began as something else! It was hard for me to accept too when I first heard these words. But I changed; I let them take away my pain…"

The Purifier continued over shouts and whispers from the outraged crowd. The opposition became more vocal with each passing second.

And then it came. Enan could almost feel the Lord Marshal's elation when one man, bloodied but not broken stepped to the fore. "No one here will do what you ask. It is unthinkable! We are a world of many peoples, many religions, and we simply cannot and will not be converted."

The Lord Marshal exchanged an amused look with the Purifier before confronting the tall, blond haired leader. "Then I'll take your soul."

The Purifier cringed as the Lord Marshal ripped the man's soul from his body. The man spun around and found himself face to face with his own ghost, trapped in the Lord Marshal's iron grip. He held out a hand as if to reclaim it, but Zhylaw cast the specter down and the man collapsed. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Join him, or join me."

_Couldn't the man think of anything new to say?_

The entire assemblage began to kneel. It always happened the same way, except for that one time….

Enan turned to address the crowd when something across the room caught his eye. It was a man. He stood in the entranceway to the hall. He was a tall, hulking figure with tanned skin and a shaved head. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of black goggles.

He was not kneeling.

Commander Vaako stepped forward to confront the man, removing his helmet and glowering with every ounce of fierceness he possessed. The breeder did not appear impressed. Enan could barely make out the low conversation from his spot on the dais.

"_Look, I'm not with everyone here..._"

That was for certain. Enan had not seen a single Helion since he'd set foot on the surface that came close to emanating the level of intensity that this man possessed. His power was undimmed even in the presence of the Lord Marshal himself and the company of Necromonger warriors that surrounded him. _Does the Lord Marshal see it, too? _He was about to take a look at Zhylaw's reaction to these unusual events when his attention was brought soundly back to the breeder.

The man was pointing directly at Irgun.

Enan's heart thrummed in his chest. Was this man actually _challenging_ Irgun?

Irgun saw the large man standing toe to toe with Commander Vaako. _How dare that breeder defy the Lord Marshal?_ He smiled inwardly to himself. Perhaps his Lord would give him permission to teach the breeder some respect. It had been some time since Irgun had been called upon to exercise his talents. He could have fun with this man.

Commander Vaako exchanged terse words with him, but the breeder would not back down. The man then turned abruptly in Irgun's direction and pointed directly at him.

"…I _will_ take a piece of him"

_Will you, now?_

Irgun recognized a challenge when he heard one. He hoisted his battle axes and moved to engage his challenger. _Let's see how you deal with this, breeder_. Irgun swung at his opponent before the man had a chance to take a defensive stance. He swung once, twice, but the man evaded him as if he were nothing more than a giant bug. Irgun drove his ax down in an arc exposing his back. It was the wrong move. Irgun felt the man rip the long serrated blade out of his back. He swung once more and that was when he felt the knife enter his side. There was no pain, but still his body seized, refusing to respond to his desire to continue his assault. Two more blows and Irgun found himself rolling down the stairs.

The last thing the warrior saw before everything went black was the Purifier's eyes, smiling.

The Purifier's heart leapt from his chest as the breeder drove the long blade once, twice, three times into Irgun's side. Enan knew enough about human anatomy to know the blow was fatal. For the first time in years, Enan remembered what it was like to feel joy.

In the midst of Enan's elation the entire room fell silent. The Helions looked upon the man with a mixture of fear and hope, while the Necromongers looked to their leader in dreadful anticipation. What would Zhylaw do?

Enan already knew. He knew that the Lord Marshal was not one to pass up the opportunity to strengthen his armada. The breeder killed Irgun without breaking a sweat. It was doubtful that Zhylaw would kill a man of such _potential_ outright.

"Stop him."

The Lord Marshal approached Irgun's killer. He was quite impressed with the clean and skillful way in which the breeder dispatched his most loyal servant. The man would make a great addition to his ranks; he just needed to find out how best to persuade him. Zhylaw ripped the knife from Irgun's corpse. "Irgun, one of my best."

The man glanced at the body lying at the bottom of the steps, a look of disbelief clear on his face. "If you say so."

Zhylaw presented Irgun's knife to the breeder, measuring his response. "What do you think of this blade?"

The man snatched the blade and spun it in his hand. "I think it's a half gram heavy on the back end."

Zhylaw smiled. Yes, this man would make a fine addition to his ranks. "In our faith, you keep what you kill." Zhylaw wrapped his hand around the breeder's in a silent challenge. The man did not give an inch.

Zhylaw was suddenly overcome by a strange feeling about this man. His half-dead soul cried out its warning. "Are you familiar to me?" he asked the large man, maintaining his grip on both hand and blade, "Have we met, on some distant field?"

"You think I'd remember." The man answered noncommittally.

Zhylaw could only agree with his choice of words. "You'd think I would too."

The man tore Irgun's blade from Zhylaw's grasp with great force, though Zhylaw made no outward sign of surprise. He needed to get to the bottom of this. The Lord Marshal was not one to let loose ends stay untrimmed and there was something about this breeder that called for caution.

The Purifier could feel the tension between the two men from halfway across the room. The Lord Marshal made no move to strike him down, as Enan had predicted. Enan had become adept at reading the Lord Marshal's moods over the last few years. It was clear to him that Zhylaw wanted this man in his ranks. But something strange happened when he handed the stranger Irgun's blade. The knife seemed to have been some kind of test and Enan wasn't sure if the stranger had passed.

"Take him before the Quasi Deads." Zhylaw issued the command before exiting the room.

The Quasi Deads? That indeed _was_ a surprise. What could have happened in those last few moments to cause Zhylaw to order such a thing? Enan's curiosity was peeked. The Purifier watched Commander Vaako and several other warriors surround the stranger. He thought there might be a struggle as the man seemed disinclined to accompany Vaako anywhere.

That was when the snake appeared.

"Perhaps the breeder would do it, if somebody just asked him." Her silky voice caused the warriors to halt in their tracks, even Lord Vaako gave pause as she entered the ring of warriors.

Enan watched Dame Vaako circle the man like a hellhound in heat. The woman's boldness had increased ten fold these last few years. After Selene retreated from public life, Dame Vaako was more than willing to take the Lady's place at state functions, alternating between her husband's arm and the Lord Marshal's. There were even whispers among the Lords and Ladies that the Dame shared more than just her arm with the Lord Marshal, but no one spoke such things in front of Lord Vaako. The woman was completely obsessed with power and it would seem that one way or another, she would have it.

Enan monitored all of these goings on from the shadows, but he was not merely a silent observer. He did all that he could to encourage her in his own way, seeing in her a level of treachery and deceit that could one day bring Zhylaw down.

Unsurprisingly, the large man acquiesced to Dame Vaako's offer and accompanied her from the hall, followed by Commander Vaako and an armed escort. Enan trailed not far behind.

* * *

The Purifier eyed the stranger carefully as the group made its way to the Necropolis. The man studied everything the Dame pointed out with discerning eyes but his expression remained inscrutable. Enan had seen converts and prisoners alike quake at the sight of the armada and gaze in awe at its splendor. The man before him, on the other hand, seemed rather unimpressed with the fleet and the Necropolis. 

Dame Zhylaw continued to dance around the large man. It was making Enan dizzy. She asked him what he thought about the Necropolis and the man gave a surprising and rather humorous answer.

"I might have gone a different way."

Enan had to suppress a humorless laugh. "True of us all." The words rolled of Enan's tongue before he thought better of them. He was relieved that his inappropriate response passed unmarked by the others. Dame Vaako was too busy _handling_ the breeder and her husband was too busy brooding over her provocative behavior. It was actually quite amusing to watch.

The man stopped short, his gaze drawn to the conversion chambers. Enan answered his unspoken question. "Converts- receiving the mark of the Necromonger. They learn how one pain can lessen another."

The man expression did not change and he said nothing as he was pulled past the chambers and into the sanctum of the Quasi Dead.

Enan watched Dame Vaako position the breeder on the central platform where the subjects are interrogated. The Lord Marshal stood on the balcony above the chamber viewing the proceedings. Enan watched the Dead sarcophagi roll forward and could hear the spectral voices echo in the hall.

"_A new one, you brought us a new one_."

Enan turned on the restraining field and the large man fell to his hands and knees. He did not seem pleased with his sudden lack of mobility.

"_Ahhhhhh, the Riddick."_ The Riddick? Enan had not before heard that name but the seers seemed to have encountered it before. Enan would have to learn more about this Riddick.

"_Thoughts of someone called, Jack."_ The breeder angrily slammed his fist into the ground surprising the Purifier. He should not have been able to break the restraining field's hold even that much. Whoever this Jack is- the man did not like others knowing about him.

"_Now we find thoughts of an Elemental." _These words gave the Purifier pause-an Elemental? Why would this man be thinking of Elementals? Enan's eyes sought the Lord Marshal to find him looking down at the chamber. The Lord Marshal wore an unguarded expression on his face that the Purifier could only describe as stunned. He began pacing across the balcony, shouting angrily at the Quasies.

"_Where_ does he come from? _Who_ are his people? These are the things I need to know." Zhylaw felt panic rising from deep within his soul. The last time he'd encountered an Elemental had been long ago and the encounter had not been a positive one.

"_We find energy. We find Furyan energy. He's Furyan, Furyan, Furyan survivor."_

Enan thought he was going mad. They could not have just said…but they did say it and now they were screaming it.

"_Kill the Furyan! Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick!"_

_No!_ The Purifier's mind cried out for him to save this man, his kin, the man who slew Irgun. Heedless of the consequences, Enan released the restraints holding Riddick in place. The man grasped the long knife and stood just as a group of Necromonger guards attacked. Enan watched in awe as he dropped one warrior after another. He downed Commander Vaako with a stun blast before disappearing into the passageway behind the Dead chambers.

The Purifier moved quickly to the nearest access panel and located Riddick on the Necropolis security net. The man was clever. He was following a direct path along the ventilation access corridor; something the man had taken discernable interest in on their journey through the Necropolis. He killed at least two dozen warriors along the way.

All the while Enan fought his own battle-keeping one step ahead of the ship's guardians. His hands moved deftly across the screen, dropping the force fields that had been erected to block Riddick's escape, clearing the path for him. When Riddick no longer appeared on the security feeds Enan let out a shaky breath. There would be hell to pay for this. The Purifier was not certain what he had gained from helping this man escape, but somehow it didn't matter. All he knew was that one of the two men he hated most in all the verse was dead and _that_ was more than enough.

* * *

Zhylaw paced the floor of his war room. He was in an incredibly foul temper but it was beginning to dissipate as a plan formed in his mind. Where first Zhylaw had only seen multiple problems stacked one upon the other, he was now beginning to see an equal number of possible solutions. His newest problem, the Furyan, had escaped the Necropolis and the planet. It would be a simple enough matter to send someone to track him down, although instinct combined with that damned prophecy warned him that finding this Riddick and killing him were two different things. He would send Commander Vaako – problem number two. There really was no problem with Vaako, he was loyal; the problem was his wife's hold over him. 

The Lord Marshal knew that woman better than she knew herself. He saw the lust for power in her eyes-it had been in Zhylaw's once, too, many years ago, when he had served under Kryll. She, herself, could not hold the throne, but her maneuvering had placed Vaako in a position to claim ascendancy. If he became Lord Marshal, it would be that bitch ruling the Necromongers, not Vaako. Zhylaw would not let that come to pass.

He would send Vaako to track down Riddick and kill him. If he succeeded, wonderful, if Vaako was killed in the attempt, at least Zhylaw would be free of one potential usurper.

Which brought him to his third problem- the Purifier.

As if the Purifier had sensed the turn of his Lord's thoughts the man appeared at the door of the war room and rang for entry.

"Come."

Enan stepped through the doorway into the Lord Marshal's office. He bowed his head respectfully at the Lord Marshal.

"Have a seat, Purifier." The Lord Marshal gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Both men took their seats and a long silence fell between them.

Enan had long since lost his ability to be intimidated by the Lord Marshal's silence. He merely sat serenely; waiting for the man to spit out whatever it was that had brought him here.

"Is there something you want to tell me Purifier?" The Lord Marshal's face was stony.

Enan smiled, "Certainly, we are purifying 10,000 Helions a day, one of our units has malfunctioned…"

He was interrupted by a roar that came from Zhylaw as he leapt from his seat. "**_Do you think I care about broken machines, Purifier_**!" his words echoed eerily off the walls and ceiling.

Enan smiled to himself. He'd never seen Zhylaw so wound up. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said in what he believed sounded like a genuinely contrite tone, "If you'd tell me what it is you wish me to tell you about, I will be more than happy to comply."

Zhylaw grew even angrier at the Purifier's feigned remorse. "The force fields, Enan, someone dropped them. _Someone_ helped the Furyan escape."

"And you think I know who did it?" He asked in a surprised tone.

"I think _you_ did it!" Zhylaw shot at the man sitting placidly across from him.

Enan was not exactly sure what he should say at this point. Part of him begged to tell this man exactly how he'd helped the Riddick escape, the other pleaded for caution. He chose to go with the latter.

"Why would I help a prisoner escape?"

"Why?" He said in a sarcastic tone. "Let me see. Perhaps it is because he succeeded where you have failed. Do not tell me you were not pleased by Irgun's death."

"On the contrary, I was only saddened that it was so quick and painless." The words rolled off Enan's tongue unrestrained. There were some things worth lying about. This was not one of them.

"So you admit it then."

"I admit only that I enjoyed watching him die. I don't see how that pertains to the breeder's escape; after all, he had already killed Irgun. I certainly didn't care what happened to him afterward."

And this was why one needed to mix lies with truth. Enan hoped the Lord Marshal would not see through the Purifier's lie.

"I do not believe you."

The Lord Marshal was growing tired of the Purifier. Their relationship had changed forever because of _her_, and not in Zhylaw's favor. The Lord Marshal's most reliable council member had become something unpredictable and dangerous. Zhylaw knew he'd gone too far with this man. Where once Zhylaw had held no fear of the Purfier, he'd come to see Enan as a threat; one as great as the Vaakos and now, this Riddick. _Perhaps the Furyan will take care of this problem for me as well. _

"I have a task for you then, Purifier. I want you to accompany Commander Vaako and track down this Riddick. I have ordered Vaako to cleanse him; however, should the Commander fail, I want you to deliver a message to Riddick for me."

* * *

Enan roamed the frigate as they sped along Riddick's trail. He needed a plan. Enan knew exactly what he wanted and was more than surprised that Zhylaw had given him the opportunity to bring a long held fantasy to fruition. Still, he was doubtful he could coerce this man, Riddick, into helping him. Not after reading his file. Enan had spent the best part of a day reading arrest reports on the escaped convict known as Riddick. There were many mysteries held within the tales of those pages but one thing was certain. This man worked for no one but himself. Still, a dream that Enan had long pushed down into the recesses of his soul came blooming back to life with Irgun's death. In his dreams, Enan had often achieved the Lord Marshal's death by his own hands. The dream had returned, changed. Now it was Riddick who ended the Lord Marshal's life and Enan's suffering. He was falling in love with this dream. Now, to make it come true… 

The Purifier made his way to the bridge and walked casually to Commander Vaako's side. The man was something of a mystery to Enan. He could not see how he and his wife had ever become a couple, except through the Dame's orchestration. She was very beautiful in her way and that was enough for many men. Enan felt a sudden stab of guilt at hoping Riddick would kill this young Commander. Vaako was loyal, a believer, everything Enan himself had once been. Enan could not hate him for that.

Enan's mind began to wander and he voiced his thoughts to the younger man wondering how he would respond. "They can be quite a test, these deep runs, a test of our inner selves. Don't you find that true?"

"Some men do." Vaako answered noncommittally.

"Just being so far from the armada the mind can start to fill with strange thoughts, doubts. Do you ever have doubts, Vaako?" Enan was certain the younger man had none and if he did they were assuredly carefully planted there by his wife.

"Doubts?"

Enan pushed the Commander a little farther. It was not as fun as toying with one of his purifiers or the Lord Marshal but watching the warrior squirm under the Lord Purifier's pointed questions gave Enan a measure of enjoyment on this otherwise stressful voyage. "About the campaign? About Lord Marshal?"

This line of questioning seemed to anger the man. "First and always- I am a Necromonger commander. So if you are here to test my loyalty you succeed only in testing my patience." Enan smiled inwardly. Yes, yes, you are loyal. A good loyal dog.

"Oh, no, that's not why I'm here at all." _If you knew why I was here, you'd have me shot this instant._ Enan turned and left the bridge, content to spend the remainder of the voyage contemplating all possible outcomes of an encounter with Riddick.

* * *

The Purifier climbed down onto the planet Crematoria. What a nightmare. Any minute this entire valley would be swept by a fiery inferno. The lensers scanned the hanger door and surrounding hills. One of them must have picked up something off to the right of the door as Vaako sent a group of warriors off to investigate. That was when the door began to open. Enan found the moment of hesitation, as the men in the hanger and the Necromonger warriors stared at each other, amusing. Shots rang out and the mass of warriors sprung into action. 

That was when Enan spotted them. Four men out on the rock field had engaged Vaako's warriors. One of the men was Riddick. Enan watched the man as he effortlessly cut down a dozen, two dozen of Zhylaw's _perfect_ warriors. This man could do it, this man could kill Zhylaw.

He heard the man call out to the young woman who fought at his side. "_Jack_." Was this the Jack the Quasies had seen? Who was she? A sister? A lover? Whoever she was the man fought side by side with her, trust evident in the way they covered one another on the battlefield.

The Purifier hoped that Riddick could protect this woman from his people, as Enan had been unable to do for _her_.

The fighting continued until an energy blast hit Riddick, sending him spiraling through the air and landing hard on the runway.

The sun began to rise.

Enan raised his hand to shield his eyes from the intensity of the sun's rays. He watched as Vaako and the others retreated to the ship that had descended once more to collect them. He saw, too, the young woman, Jack, call out to Riddick's motionless form. He watched her turn and follow the Necromongers to their ship. The Purifier did not follow. He'd known that this trip would be his last and so he took the large man by his wrist and dragged him into the protection of the cavern.

Enan checked the man for serious injury and found only a few minor cuts along with a sprained knee. He injected Riddick with a dose of nanos and waited for him to regain consciousness.

Enan stood for a long time looking at his warped reflection on the hull of the spacecraft. He did not know who the man in that reflection was. Enan began taking off all of his jewelry. His successor would be most displeased to find these sacred pieces had been lost. Each piece he removed lessened the burden on his soul.

He heard the man stir and watched him get to his feet. Enan considered telling him not to put so much weight on his injured leg but somehow he didn't think this Riddick would heed his suggestion. The man stared out into the blazing inferno that had minutes earlier been a cool valley. He watched the ship ascend into the outer atmosphere and disappear from sight.

"I was supposed to deliver a message to you, if Vaako failed to kill you. A message, from the Lord Marshal himself; he tells you to stay away from Helion, stay away from him and in return you'll be hunted no more." Enan picked up Irgun's blade which he had found discarded in a Necromonger's throat days earlier and walked toward the man who as yet had not acknowledged Enan's presence.

"But Vaako will most likely report you as dead. So this is your chance. Your chance to do what no man has ever done."

Enan felt the man's crushing grip on his throat. Enan was not afraid of him but he did wish to speak his peace before dying.

"The girl, where will they take her?"

Enan wondered briefly how the man had known she was on that ship; intuition, perhaps. He must have known she would go with them rather than die on this planet. It was all Enan needed.

"To the Lord Marshal of course." He saw the wheels turning in the man's head. He would return to the Necropolis, return for this girl.

The Purifier needed to be sure he would follow her back to Helion. He also found he needed to confess his sins to this man, his kinsman. A man who, as evil as his warrant sheets made him out to be, could not begin to compete with the amount of blood on Enan's hands. He hoped this man would understand that if the fates had been different they might have been in each other's position, although Enan highly doubted that this man would have joined the purifier ranks, had he been converted.

"I have done, unbelievable things, in the name of a faith that was never my own. And he'll do to her what he did to me."

The men locked eyes, or, if Enan thought they did, unable to see through the dark goggles.

"The Necromonger in me warns you not to go back, but the Furyan in me," the man lifted his head in surprise and Enan looked strait into the cloaked orbs, "hopes you won't listen."

"We all began as something else." He smiled and held up the blade that Riddick used to kill Irgun and dropped it to the ground before him. He didn't know if the gesture was understood by the man before him. On Furya a warrior, dying on the battle field, would cast his dagger down at the feet of a brother. By picking it up, the brother agreed to take the dying man's enemies as his own. Enan prayed that this man would understand.

He looked down at the knife and back at the man before him meaningfully. "God knows, I've dreamed of it." And somehow he knew his dream would come true.

Enan turned to face the blazing inferno that was Crematoria. It was the incarnation of every descriptor of Hell across a thousand worlds. It was fitting. He walked out into the flames. He could feel them burning him, dissolving him into nothing. _If only I could feel pain_. He collapsed onto the ground.

_Anya_. _It's over now_.

A final gust of flame breathed through the valley and the Purifier was no more.

* * *

Author's note: 

One chapter to go.


	25. Chapter 25

**Clarification of my previous chapter**:

_I should have mentioned this at the end of the last chapter but it slipped my mind. For those of you who have not seen both the original release and the director's cut of COR, there are a couple of subplot differences between the two. The big one being dreams that Riddick has (DC). Since this is not really Riddick's story, I decided to stick with the OR version without the dreams so I didn't have to deviate into a different storyline and try to explain if and why the Purifier and Riddick were having the same dreams. It just didn't work for my story. I also have not read the novelization and I know there was a lot of stuff in there that I am obviously ignoring. _

_**Disclaimer**__: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies. _

Chapter 25

The entire Necropolis was in a state of high alert; the silent alarms had been triggered. Selene watched the warriors as they scoured the corridors for the intruder, Riddick, while she scoured them for Zhylaw. She found him in the meeting hall surrounded by his Captains and Commanders. Selene moved along the wall watching her husband's movements. He was in quite a state. She could almost feel his anger radiating from across the room but more than that, she saw fear in his gate and in the nervous movements of his hands. Selene hoped his fear was justified, that this man, Riddick, was everything Enan and Zhylaw thought him to be – perhaps then, she would be free.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a woman's scream. Selene watched, amazed, as a man dressed in Necro armor flew through the air a long knife poised to strike the Lord Marshal. Without missing a beat, Zhylaw grabbed the man's wrist and sent him hurtling across the room.

The warriors in the room moved to seize him but were halted by the Lord Marshal's command. "Stay your weapons, he came for me." Zhylaw turned away from the man sprawled on the floor and beckoned a convert forward. He pulled back the hood, revealing a young woman. Selene saw recognition pass over the intruder's face. The girl looked Riddick directly in the eye. Selene's study of the pair was interrupted by her husband's voice.

"Consider this, if you fall here, now, you'll never rise. But if you choose another way," he turned to look at the young woman, "the Necromonger way, you'll die in due time and rise again in the Underverse." Selene understood now the level of fear this man stirred in her husband. Zhylaw was actually trying to tempt the man with a peace offering, this girl, whoever she was. Selene held her breath wondering what the man's response would be.

Receiving no reply from the warrior, Zhylaw placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Go to him."

The girl walked slowly toward the fearsome looking man. _Who is she to him?_ Selene strained to hear her words. She spoke to him of the Underverse. He made some reply but his voice was not loud enough for Selene to make out the words. The woman walked past the warrior then, melting into the crowd.

Zhylaw's voice rang out with dread finality. "Convert now or fall forever."

Selene could barely make out the man's whispered response. "_You've killed everything I know_."

The man spun around faster than she'd thought possible and threw his long knife at Zhylaw. The entire crowd gasped as the blade entered the Lord Marshal's shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

Zhylaw pulled the blade free from his armor, the smallest tinge of blood on its tip. His thoughts drifted to the last blade that had been raised against him, "been a long time since I've seen my own blood."

Zhylaw motioned his warriors back and dropped the knife to the ground. Then he attacked. Selene was frozen in horror by the scene. In all of her years as the Lord Marshal's lover, wife, _prisoner_, she'd never seen him like this. He moved with a speed that no mortal could hope to match, disappearing and reappearing at will like an Elemental. Years ago, Selene thought she'd fallen in love with a man-but this creature was not a man and she found herself sending up a silent prayer that this Riddick would destroy him. Her hope was short lived as Zhylaw landed blow after blow while the man fought hard to keep the Lord Marshal in his sights. Two jaw crushing hits and Zhylaw had Riddick on the ground.

"_These_ are his last moments." Zhylaw announced to the crowd and he briefly met his wife's eyes, a maniacal smile spread across his face. _Thought you'd be rid of me so easily? _

Zhylaw stood above Riddick and clasped the man's face between his hands. "Give me your soul." Zhylaw'd never felt such resistance before in a mortal being, as he tried to rip more than life out of the downed man. Riddick's soul refused to break free. Zhylaw could feel it holding on tightly to the warrior's body. Blinded by anger and frustration, the Lord Marshal did not see Riddick's fist coming.

"Fuck you." Riddick struck the Lord Marshal hard knocking him across the room. Zhylaw's physical and astral forms split and reformed upon impact with the floor. Selene's heart began pounding once more with the thought that freedom might yet be hers.

She watched as Zhylaw jumped to his feet, vanishing and rematerializing at the top of one of the statues. He pulled a spear from the figure's neck, attacking Riddick once more with the deadly looking weapon. The warrior fought on longer than Selene would have imagined possible, but once again the Lord Marshal took him down. Zhylaw struck Riddick with the spear, breaking it with the force of the impact and sending the man careening across the room.

Zhylaw tossed the broken spear carelessly to the ground. One of his warriors passed him a fighting staff. In a single graceful move he hooked Riddick with his staff and proceeded to crush his throat with the pole. Selene could hear the rage in her husband's voice as he growled at the warrior now struggling for air. "_You're not the one to bring me down!_"

And he was right. Selene's focus was so riveted on her husband and the man struggling for breath that she didn't see the young woman move through the crowd, she didn't see her pick up the remnant of the discarded spear and she didn't see her drive said spike into Zhylaw's back.

What she did see was Zhylaw cry out in shock as he felt the shaft enter his body. She watched him strike the young woman so hard she went flying into a column, a column ornamented with long, curved spikes. She watched Zhylaw throw the warrior away from him and the girl collapse to the floor. She watched all of this and did not look away, not until a familiar voice rang out through the hall.

"Now! Kill the beast while it's wounded!"

Selene eyes were drawn to Commander Vaako as he landed on the stone floor, weapon in hand. He was walking toward the Lord Marshal. _The Lord Marshal_. Selene saw it before her husband did.

Zhylaw called out to his second in command. "Help me Vaako. Kill him." The reality of the situation hit Zhylaw hard- his second was moving towards him, not Riddick.

"Vaako?"

Vaako lifted the heavy ax, prepared to deliver the killing blow. Zhylaw saw the betrayal in Vaako's eyes, heard his pitiful words of apology. _Forgive me_. Zhylaw's astral self began to pull his body away from the death blow, he reached for the staff that had been discarded across the room but he could not lift it. Riddick's foot pinned the weapon firmly to the ground and he held Irgun's blade in his hand. Zhylaw knew in that moment the end had come but at least the fates had allowed him to choose his successor. _Here is my forgiveness Vaako_.

Riddick drove the long blade into Zhylaw's head, breaking the blade off in his skull.

The Lord Marshal crumpled to the ground.

Selene felt her heart leap into her throat._ He's dead. He's dead!_ Her soul wished to cry out its joy but she dared not make a sound.

Selene watched Riddick crouch down beside the young woman's body. He lifted her up off the ground and spoke to her as the last few threads of life broke away. Selene could not hear his words but his expression spoke volumes, even from across the hall. Whoever this woman was, he loved her. He laid the woman back down on the ground, his hand moving to his face. He sat heavily upon the Lord Marshal's throne.

The Commanders stared down at Zhylaw's lifeless form and then at Riddick. They moved as one to the foot of the stairs that climbed up to the throne. Lord Vaako still had the ax in his hand but Riddick made no move to defend himself. There was no need. Vaako kneeled first, followed by the Commanders and soon the entire assembly fell to its knees before the new Lord Marshal. Selene, still in a state of shock, bowed too.

* * *

Riddick sat in the darkness of the Lord Marshal's chambers- his chambers now. He left the lights dimmed and removed his goggles. He scanned the room for hidden sensors, cameras, but found none. Conceding that he was indeed alone he sat down heavily upon a large comfortable wing chair and allowed himself to relax. He closed his eyes, his mind playing over and over the past hour's events. He'd wanted to kill that man, the Lord Marshal, not take his place.

_You keep what you kill._

Under any other circumstances Riddick would have found the philosophy quite practical. Right now he was finding it difficult coming to grips with what it was he'd actually won from his battle with the Lord Marshal, and what he'd lost.

Jack. _Kyra_.

Riddick sat lost in thought when the main doors to his new quarters slid apart.

A tall, blond woman stood at the threshold but hesitated entering the darkened room. She took two tentative steps foreword and the door closed behind her, leaving her temporarily blinded. He watched her blink her eyes, trying to adjust them to the dim light. She couldn't see him sitting in the chair but she knew he was in the room.

"Do you like sitting in the dark?" The woman asked drawing her eyes around the room in an attempt to locate him.

Riddick was silent for a long time. He was a bit annoyed that someone was interrupting his brooding time, but he was also curious as to why this woman would be seeking him out, alone, in the dark. "The light hurts my eyes."

She said nothing to this but followed the sound of his voice towards the sitting room. As she approached she made out the two glowing silver orbs she'd missed in her scan of the room. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dim light and she could see the outline of a large man reclining somewhat carelessly in the large wing chair. She held his eyes for some time unsure of where to begin.

Riddick was becoming uncomfortable with this woman's intense gaze. He was used to people fearing him but these Necros weren't exactly the cowering type. _Not being able to feel pain has gotta help in the fear department._ Still, he didn't like it. "Well? What do you want?"

Selene was startled by the sharpness of his words. Her nervousness began to show. She didn't want to anger this man, not while he had complete power over her. "I've come to ask you to release me."

Riddick's eyebrow arched at this strange and rather ambiguous request. "Release you. Release you from what?"

"You keep what you kill, remember?" She answered his question with another.

Riddick could not suppress a sharp laugh. "How could I forget?" he responded, holding out his arms and glancing around the room.

She continued, hesitantly. "I am Selene, Zhylaw's wife. You killed him in single combat and so by our law I pass into your hands." She prayed this man would not wish to keep her. She'd waited too long to be rid of Zhylaw to find herself subject to another callous master.

The woman's words gave Riddick pause. Winning an army is one thing but the man's wife? He studied her carefully, keeping his expression unreadable. The woman was very beautiful in an obvious sort of way, or so Riddick thought. There was nothing truly spectacular about her, there was no strength in her form and her eyes held no fire. _Not like Kyra, her eyes could scorch a man's soul. _Riddick felt the beginnings of tears forming behind his eyes. He would not let them fall, not in front of this stranger.

Selene waited nervously as the man studied her. After a few moments he seemed to loose himself in his own thoughts. Selene took in what she could see of the darkened room remembering the last time she'd entered these chambers, only to have her attention caught by something lying on the end table.

It was the handle of Irgun's blade. The blade he used to kill Zhylaw. She'd seen it often enough, sticking out of Irgun's back, to recognize its unique design.

Selene leaned down and lifted the handle into her hands tracing the design with her fingers. "Irgun's blade. Did the Purifier give it to you?"

Riddick looked at what remained of the knife. "If you mean the skinny blond guy with the big mouth…yeah, he did."

Selene smiled as she looked down at the handle. Enan would have laughed at the man's none too favorable description of the Lord Purifier. She laughed softly at the thought.

"You knew him," he paused trying to remember what it was she'd called the man, "the Purifier?"

"Yes, Enan was a good friend," Selene looked up from handle to meet Riddick's strange eyes, "to both of us I think."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Riddick's anger at his present situation combined with the fact that this woman seemed to know something he didn't, caused his words to come out harsher than he'd intended.

Selene could feel the anger in his words but also a faint hint of curiosity so she pressed on, "You don't actually think you escaped the Necropolis entirely on you own, do you?"

The question caught Riddick off guard. He had thought his escape to be a bit on the easy side considering the Necro's reputation, but then again, he'd gotten out of lots of places no other men had ever escaped. His pride wouldn't let him admit that he'd suspected someone had helped him out, but at the time, he thought it was Toombs. Instead of voicing all of his thoughts on the matter he bit off a sarcastic remark. "Why ask me? Why don't you ask all the Necros I killed on my way out?"

Selene smiled at him; she was beginning to understand how this man worked. She'd seen so many masks in her life and had worn one herself these past three years. This man was Irgun on the outside and Zhylaw on the inside and like Zhylaw, he wouldn't simply ask for what he wanted. He'd wait until you slipped or trick you into revealing your secrets. Selene had to admit, he had a very convincing outer shell- the eyes, the muscle, the gruff demeanor. It was all used to hide the truth; this man may be many things, but he was not stupid.

Enan told her of the Riddick's clever escape route, the one he'd somehow managed to memorize during his brief walk through the Necropolis. The mask Riddick wore wouldn't give a shit about how he'd escaped the Necropolis, but the man who'd memorized that escape route, who'd snuck back into the Necropolis and reached the Lord Marshal's throne room undetected-that man wanted to know the truth. For some reason, Selene felt no need to keep it from him. "Enan dropped the force fields that were laid in your path. If he hadn't, you never would have made it off this ship alive."

Riddick's face remained unreadable. He looked right through Selene, his mind thinking back to his daring escape. After a long moment the man voiced a surprisingly direct question. "Why did he help me?"

Selene sighed, looking again at the broken weapon in her hand, "Because you helped him."

The man laughed rudely. "Had a problem with Scarface, did he?"

Selene's eyes clouded over remembering the woman battered form lying on the floor. _It looks like Irgun was less than gentle after I left last night. _"You could say that."

Riddick thought his words had upset her by the sad expression that graced her face. Riddick felt an enormous amount of irritation over the fact that he actually wanted to know more about this Purifier. His survival instinct growled at him, _Furyan or not, why should I care? _But he did care. He spouted off a lot of shit about not giving a fuck who he was or where he came from, but the truth was, he did care. And now the only other Furyan he'd ever met was a pile of ashes.

His mind drifted back to Crematoria. He wanted to know what his encounter with blondie had been all about. One second the man's talking about killing the Lord Marshal and the next he's burned to a crisp without any explanation. It was an image Riddick knew would be burned into his memory forever. _Shit, that walk into the fires of hell was intense even by my standards._

Riddick wanted to keep the woman talking so he flung another sarcastic remark at her. "What did the big guy do, break one of his converter machines?"

Selene smiled sadly at Riddick's question, wishing the answer were so simple. "No. He hurt someone, someone Enan loved."

Riddick could not help but think of Kyra as the woman spoke these words; her body flung across the room like a doll, her last breath leaving her body.

Selene watched the man's thoughts turn inward. He was thinking of her, the girl Zhylaw killed. Selene's heart swelled with pity for the man. _He and Enan are so alike_. She spoke the words that she knew would capture his attention. "Zhylaw hurt her, too."

Riddick looked up. His thoughts momentarily pulled from the images of Kyra's death. "What happened?" he demanded.

Selene sat down on the sofa across from Riddick lost momentarily in thought. Selene could still hear Enan's mournful cries as she rocked him to sleep that final, dreadful night. "He killed her." The words sounded so simple they belied the terrible truth behind them.

"The Lord Marshal." The words came out of Riddick's mouth like a curse.

Selene trembled at the anger behind his words. She looked up at the man seated across from her. He'd misunderstood. "No," she whispered quietly, "Enan killed her."

Riddick's face became alight with shock. "You said he loved her." He said accusingly.

Selene's thoughts drifted back to the tiny woman, the careful way Enan had wrapped her body in the burial shroud, the kiss he placed on her lips before covering her face with the silk mantle. "He couldn't protect her; he couldn't save her from them. Death was the only thing he could give her."

Selene placed the knife handle back on the table and stood. Riddick sat pondering the words she'd just spoken. She spoke her thoughts aloud, "Some people would do anything for those they love."

Riddick looked up at the woman who once again stood across from him. She folded her hands in front of her and addressed him once more in an official sounding tone.

"So, my question, will you release me?"

Riddick studied the woman carefully. He needed someone to help him with this whole Lord Marshal thing. She knew the Necromonger Way and could help him navigate this strange culture until he figured out what he was going to do next. "I should keep you around to help me with this whole Lord Marshal business, seeing as how you already know the ropes. Why should I let you walk?"

After watching this man's reaction to the death of the girl, Selene decided that truth was the best course of action. "I've waited years to be free of him, to be free to choose another."

The man actually smirked at her. "Already have one lined up do you?" His words were sarcastic but not without a note of humor. His expression turned serious then when he asked, "What other?"

Selene let out a slow breath, "The guardian who gave me access to your room, Lord Sesten."

"Why him?" Riddick asked, wondering what the man had done to deserve the attention of the Lord Marshal's wife.

"Because he loves me," she paused wondering whether or not she should finish this particular thought aloud, "as you loved her."

Riddick was surprised at the woman's answer and at her presumption. How did she know how he felt about Kyra? He looked up at the woman's face, his anger melting away with the realization that she had spoken the truth. He nodded his head slowly. "I still expect you to help me with this whole ruler of the Necromongers deal."

Selene smiled at the strange man who was now their leader, "Of course Lord Marshal, I will help you in any way I can." Selene bowed respectfully and Riddick laughed at the gesture. She exited the room.

Riddick was left alone once more with only his thoughts, thoughts of the army he'd inherited, thoughts of the dead Furyan, and thoughts of this place called Underverse where Kyra now dwelled.

Fin

* * *

_**Author's Note:** That's it kids. I'm sorry for the boring ending but there it is. For all of you who've made it to the end of my tale, please leave me a parting gift in the form of a review. I'll love you forever. For those of you who've reviewed along the way, thank you so much for the support- it meant a lot to me. I just now started a forum for people to post questions/read commentary about this fic. _


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